"John!"
He took the book from her, gently, and held her hands.
"Something has happened!" she said. "Tell me—I can bear it."
He saw instantly that her dread was for him, and it made his task the harder.
It's your brother, Alison."
"Preston! What is it? He's done something——"
Hodder shook his head.
"He died—to-night. He is at Mr. Bentley's."
It was like her that she did not cry out, or even speak, but stood still, her hands tightening on his, her breast heaving. She was not, he knew, a woman who wept easily, and her eyes were dry. And he had it to be thankful for that it was given him to be with her, in this sacred relationship, at such a moment. But even now, such was the mystery that ever veiled her soul, he could not read her feelings, nor know what these might be towards the brother whose death he announced.
"I want to tell you, first, Alison, to prepare you," he said.