prostrated? Has this frightful occurrence made her ill, or does she bear up with fortitude under the shock of this sudden calamity?”
“She is not ill, but her suffering is undoubted. If you could see her and say a few words to relieve her anxiety in regard to yourself, I think it would greatly comfort her. Her main thought seems to be for you, sir.”
Mr. Sylvester frowned, raised his hand with a repelling gesture, and hastily opened his lips. Bertram thought he was about to utter some passionate phrase. But instead of that he merely remarked, “I am sorry I cannot see her, but it is quite impossible. You must stand between me and this poor child, Bertram. Tell her I send her my love; tell her that I am quite well; anything to solace her and make these dark days less dreary. If she wants a friend with her, let a messenger be sent for whomever she desires. I place no restrictions upon anything you choose to do for her comfort or happiness, but let me be spared the sight of any other face than yours until this is all over. After the funeral—it may sound ungracious, but I am far from feeling so—I shall wish to be left alone for awhile. If she can be made to understand this—”
“I think her instincts, sir, have already led her to divine your wishes. If I am not mistaken, she is even now making preparations to return to her relatives.”
Mr. Sylvester gave a start. “What, so soon!” he murmured, and the sadness of his tone smote Bertram to the heart. But in another moment he recovered himself and shortly exclaimed, “Well! well! that is as it should be. You will watch over her Bertram, and see that she is kindly cared for. It would be a grief to me to have her go away with any more than the necessary regret at losing one who was always kind to her .”
“I will look after her as after a sister,” returned Bertram. “She shall miss no attention which I can supply.”