Part 38 (1/2)

A carriage, whose style and appointments bespoke it English, changed horses at the inn at Wallensee. The courier, while ordering the relays, had heard George's story; and touching his hat to the inmates of the vehicle, retailed it with natural pathos.

On hearing the name of Delme, the lady was visibly affected. She was an old friend of the family; and as Melicent Dashwood, had known George as a boy.

It was not without emotion, that she heard of one so young, and to her so familiar, being thus prematurely called to his last account.

The lady and her husband alighted, and sending up their cards, begged to see the mourner.

The message was delivered; but Delme, without comment or enquiry, at once declined the offer; and it was thought better not to persist. They were too deeply interested, however, not to attempt to be of use. They saw Carl and Thompson,--satisfied themselves that Sir Henry was in friendly hands; and thanking the student with warmth and sincerity, for his attention to the sufferer, exacted a promise, that he would not leave him, as long as he could in any way be useful.

The husband and wife prepared to continue their journey; but not before the former had left his address in Florence, with directions to Carl to write immediately, in case he required the a.s.sistance of a friend; and the latter had written a long letter to Mrs. Glenallan, in which she broke as delicately as she could, the melancholy and unlooked-for tidings.

Chapter XII

The Letter.

”And from a foreign sh.o.r.e Well to that heart might _hers_ these absent greetings pour.”

Three weeks had elapsed since George's death.

It would be difficult to depict satisfactorily, the state of Sir Henry Delme's mind during that period. The pride of life appeared crushed within him. He rarely took exercise, and when he did, his step was slow, and his gait tottering.

That one terrible loss was ever present to his mind; and yet his imagination, as if disconnected with his feelings, or his memory, was constantly running riot over varying scenes of death, and conjuring up revolting pictures of putrescence and decay.

A black pall, and an odour of corruption, seemed to commingle with each quick-springing fantasy; and Delme would start with affright from his own morbid conceptions, as he found himself involuntarily dwelling on the waxen rigidity of death,--following the white worm in its unseemly wanderings,--and finally stripping the frail and disgusting coat from the disjointed skeleton.

Sir Henry Delme had in truth gone through arduous and trying scenes.

The very circ.u.mstance that he had to conceal his own feelings, and support George through his deeper trials, made the present reaction the more to be dreaded.

Certain are we, that trials such as his, are frequently the prevailing causes, of moral and intellectual insanity. Fortunately, Sir Henry was endued with a firm mind, and with nerves of great power of endurance.

One morning, at an early hour, Thompson brought in a letter.

It was from Emily Delme; and as Sir Henry noted the familiar address, and the broad black edge, which told that the news of his brother's death had reached his sister, he cast it from him with a feeling akin to pain.

The next moment, however, he sprang from the bed, threw open the shutters, and commenced reading its contents.

EMILY'S LETTER.

My own dear brother,

My heart bleeds for you! But yesterday, we received the sad, sad letter.

To-day, although blinded with tears, I implore you to remember, that you have not lost your all! Our bereavement has been great! our loss heavy indeed. But if a link in the family love-chain be broken--shall not the remaining ones cling to each other the closer?