He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. ” He stepped back as though he had received a blow. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot.
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