"How!"
"His son is dead."
"How such a loss must grieve him!"
I did not speak.
"But is he sure that his son is dead! What joy if he were mistaken—if the son yet lived!"
"Nay, my uncle has a brave heart, and he is resigned;—but, pardon me, have you heard anything of that son?"
"I!—what should I hear? I would fain learn, however, from your uncle himself, what he might like to tell me of his sorrows—or if, indeed, there be any chance that"—
"That—what?"
"That—that his son still survives."
"I think not," said I; "and I doubt whether you will learn much from my uncle. Still there is something in your words that belies their apparent meaning, and makes me suspect that you know more than you will say."