"All is for the best. My loss is his gain—but such a loss—such a dreadful loss!—I know not how to bear it with becoming fortitude!"
"I will not attempt to insult your grief by offering common-place condolence. These are but words, of course. Nature says, weep—weep freely, my dear young friend; but do not regret his departure."
"How did he die?—dear kind uncle! Was he at all prepared for such a sudden unexpected event?"
"The agitating occurrences of the last week had induced a tendency of blood to the head, which ended in apoplexy. From the moment of seizure he was insensible to all outward objects; he did not even recognise his son, in whose arms he breathed his last. Of his mental state, it is impossible for us to determine. He had faults, but they were more the result of unhappy circumstances than of any peculiar tendency to evil in his nature. He was kind, benevolent, and merciful: a good neighbor, and a warm and faithful friend. Let us hope that he has found forgiveness through the merits of his Redeemer, and is at rest."
Anthony kissed his uncle's cold cheek, and said, "God bless him!" with great fervor.
"And now, my young friend, tell me candidly, in what way you have offended Captain Whitmore—a man both wealthy and powerful, and who has proved himself such a disinterested friend to your uncle and cousin; and who might, if he pleased, be of infinite service, to you? Can you explain to me the meaning of his parting words?"
"Not here—not here," said Anthony, greatly agitated. "By the dead body of the father, how can a creature so long dependent upon his bounty denounce his only son? Captain Whitmore labors under a strong delusion—he has believed a lie; and poor and friendless as I am, I am too proud to convince him of his error."
"You are wrong, Anthony. No one should suffer an undeserved stigma to rest upon his character. But I will say no more upon a painful subject. What are you going to do with yourself? Where will you find a home to-night?"
"Here with the dead. Whilst he remains upon earth I have no other home. I know Mr. Winthrop the jailer—he is a kind benevolent man; he will not deny me an asylum for a few days."
"My house is close at hand; remain with me until the funeral is over."