my poor flower would have caught cold at the
show, and never held up its head again.'

Her tone was gay; but Charles, who saw her face in the glass, betrayed
her by saying, 'Winking away a tear, O Amy!'

'I never nursed a dear gazelle!' quoted Amy, with a merry laugh; and
before any more could be said, there entered a middle-aged gentleman,
short and slight, with a fresh, weather-beaten, good-natured face, gray
whiskers, quick eyes, and a hasty, undecided air in look and movement.
He greeted Philip heartily, and the letter was given to him.

'Ha! Eh? Let us look. Not old Sir Guy's hand. Eh? What can be the
matter? What? Dead! This is a sudden thing.'

'Dead! Who? Sir Guy Morville?'

'Yes, quite suddenly--poor old man.' Then stepping to the door, he
opened it, and called, 'Mamma; just step here a minute, will you,
mamma?'

The summons was obeyed by a tall, handsome lady, and behind her crept,
with doubtful steps, as if she knew not how far to venture, a little
girl of eleven, her turned-up nose and shrewd face full of curiosity.
She darted up to Amabel; who, though she shook her head, and held up her
finger, smiled, and took the little girl's hand, listening meanwhile to
the announcement, 'Do you hear this, mamma? Here's a shocking thing! Sir
Guy Morville dead, quite suddenly.'

'Indeed! Well, poor man, I suppose no one ever repented or suffered more
than he. Who writes?'

'His grandson--poor boy! I can hardly make out his letter.' Holding it
half a yard from his eyes, so that all could see a few lines of hasty,
irregular writing, in a forcible hand, bearing marks of having been
penned under great distress and agitation, he read aloud:--

'"DEAR MR. EDMONSTONE,--

My dear grandfather died at six this morning. He had an attack of
apoplexy yesterday evening, and never spoke again, though for a short
time he knew me. We hope he suffered little. Markham will make all
arrangements. We propose that the funeral should take place on Tuesday;
I hope you will be able to come. I would write to my cousin, Philip
Morville, if I knew his address; but I depend on you for saying all that
ought to be said. Excuse this illegible letter,--I hardly know what I
write.

'"Yours, very sincerely,
'"Guy Morville."'

'Poor fellow!' said Philip, 'he writes with a great deal of proper
feeling.'

'How very sad for him to be left alone there!' said Mrs. Edmon