He sank back in his chair, and hid his face in his hands, and bowed
his head upon the table. The strong mahogany dining-table shook and
rattled under his agony.

Sophy went and put her arms round his bowed neck.

"Go! you are not Harry," said he; but the action roused him.

"Where is he? where is the"--said he, with his strong face set into
the lines of anguish, by two minutes of such intense woe.

"In the servants' hall," said nurse. "Two policemen and another man
brought him home. They would be glad to speak to you when you are
able, sir."

"I am now able," replied he. At first when he stood up he tottered.
But steadying himself, he walked, as firmly as a soldier on drill,
to the door. Then he turned back and poured out a glass of wine
from the decanter which yet remained on the table. His eye caught
the wine-glass which Harry had used but two or three hours before.
He sighed a long quivering sigh, and then mastering himself again,
he left the room.

"You had better go back to your sisters, Miss Sophy," said nurse.

Miss Carson went. She could not face death yet.

The nurse followed Mr. Carson to the servants' hall. There on their
dinner-table lay the poor dead body. The men who had brought it
were sitting near the fire, while several of the servants stood