For, to the living, more especially to the young, the sight of death is
horrible. It is such a fearsome comment on their health and strength.
Youth and strength are merry; but who can be merry with yon dead thing in
the upper chamber? Take it away! thrust it underground! it is an insult
to us; it reminds us that we, too, die like others. What business has its
pallor to show itself against our ruddy cheeks?
"I beg your pardon," whispered Augusta, realising something of all this
in a flash, "I forgot, you do not know--you must be shocked--Forgive me!"
"Who is it?" he said, gasping to get back his breath.
"My sister," she answered. "It was to try and save her life that I wanted
the money. When I told her that I could not get it, she gave up and died.
Your uncle killed her. Come."
Greatly shocked, he followed her back into the sitting-room, and then--as
soon as he got his composure--apologised for having intruded himself upon
her in such an hour of desolation.
"I am glad to see you," she said simply, "I have seen nobody except
the doctor once, and the undertaker twice. It is dreadful to sit alone
hour after hour face to face with the irretrievable. If I had not been
so foolish as to enter into that agreement with Messrs.
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