The Earl looked doubtfully at James.

‘Yes, let me go,’ said Louis.  ’I must see her again.  It has been mother and son between us.’  And, hiding his face in his hands, he hurried out of the room.

‘Let him come,’ said James.  ’If duty and affection claim a right, none have such as he.’

‘I hesitate only as to acting unceremoniously by your uncle.’

’This is no moment for ceremony—­no time to deprive her of whatever she loves best.’

’Be it so, then.  His own feelings are his best passport, and well has she deserved all that he can ever feel!  And, James, if she should express any desire to see me, if I can be of any use in settling matters, or could promote any better understanding with your uncle, I am ready at a moment’s notice.  I would come at once, but that many might be burdensome to your uncle and sister.’

The two cousins were quickly on their way.  James took a second-class ticket, the first time he had ever done so in travelling with his cousin.  Fitzjocelyn placed himself beside him without remark.

James dozed as well as the narrow seat would permit, and only woke to chafe at each halt, and Louis mused over the associations of those scenes, and last year’s triumphant return.  Had the change of habits truly hastened the decay of her powers? had her son’s toil and success been merely to bring her home to the grave of her fathers, at the expense of so many heartburnings, separations, and dissensions?  At least, he trusted that her last hours might be crowned by the peacemaker’s joy, and that she might see strife and bitterness laid aside between Oliver, and Henry’s only surviving son.

Alas! it was not to be.  The shutters and blinds were closed, and Clara met them at the door, her pale face and streaming eyes forestalling the tidings.  The frame, hitherto so vigorous and active, had been spared long or weary decay; and tranquil torpor had mildly conducted the happy, gentle spirit to full repose.  She had slumbered away without revival or suffering, as one who did ’rest from her labours,’ and her eyes had been closed on the previous night.

Clara wept as she spoke, but she had been alone with her sorrow long enough to face it, and endure calmly.

Not so her brother.  It was anguish to have come too late, and to have missed the last word and look; and he strode madly up and down the room, almost raving at the separation and removal which he declared had killed her.

‘Oh, speak to him, Louis!’ cried Clara.  ‘Oh, what shall I do?’

As she spoke, the door was opened, and Mr. Dynevor came in, with a grief-stricken look and quieter manner, but his entrance instantly silenced all James’s demonstrations, and changed them into a haughty, compressed bitterness, as though he actually looked on him in the light of his grandmother’s destroyer.

‘Ah!  James,’ began his uncle, gently, ’I wish you had been here earlier!’