第72部分(第6/7 页)

ame　more　sad　and　silent　as　the　day　approached　for　leaving　their　brother　and　their　home。　They　both　tried　to　appear　as　usual；　bat　the　sorrow　they　had　to　struggle　against　was　one　that　could　not　be　entirely　conquered　or　concealed。　Diana　intimated　that　this　would　be　a　different　parting　from　any　they　had　ever　yet　known。　It　would　probably；　as　far　as　St。　John　was　concerned；　be　a　parting　for　years：　it　might　be　a　parting　for　life。

“He　will　sacrifice　all　to　his　long…framed　resolves；”　she　said：　“natural　affection　and　feelings　more　potent　still。　St。　John　looks　quiet；　Jane；　but　he　hides　a　fever　in　his　vitals。　You　would　think　him　gentle；　yet　in　some　things　he　is　inexorable　as　death；　and　the　worst　of　it　is；　my　conscience　will　hardly　permit　me　to　dissuade　him　from　his　severe　decision：　certainly；　I　cannot　for　a　moment　blame　him　for　it。　It　is　right；　noble；　Christian：　yet　it　breaks　my　heart！”　And　the　tears　gushed　to　her　fine　eyes。　Mary　bent　her　head　low　over　her　work。

“We　are　now　without　father：　we　shall　soon　be　without　home　and　brother；”　she　murmured；

At　that　moment　a　little　accident　supervened；　which　seemed　decreed　by　fate　purposely　to　prove　the　truth　of　the　adage；　that　“misfortunes　never　e　singly；”　and　to　add　to　their　distresses　the　vexing　one　of　the　slip　between　the　cup　and　the　lip。　St。　John　passed　the　window　reading　a　letter。　He　entered。

“Our　uncle　John　is　dead；”　said　he。

Both　the　sisters　seemed　struck：　not　shocked　or　appalled；　the　tidings　appeared　in　their　eyes　rather　momentous　than　afflicting。

“Dead？”　repeated　Diana。

“Yes。”

She　riveted　a　searching　gaze　on　her　brother’s　face。　“And　what　then？”　she　demanded；　in　a　low　voice。

“What　then；　Die？”　he　replied；　maintaining　a　marble　immobility　of　feature。　“What　then？　Why—nothing。　Re