Melmoth, dropping the paper.
"How shall we break the intelligence to her? Alas! her share of the
affliction causes me to forget my own."
"It is a heavy misfortune, doubtless; and Ellen will grieve as a daughter
should," replied Mrs. Melmoth, speaking with the good sense of which she
had a competent share. "But she has never known her father; and her sorrow
must arise from a sense of duty, more than from strong affection. I will
go and inform her of her loss. It is late, and I wonder if she be still
asleep."
"Be cautious, dearest wife," said the doctor. "Ellen has strong feelings,
and a sudden shock might be dangerous."
"I think I may be trusted, Dr. Melmoth," replied the lady, who had a high
opinion of her own abilities as a comforter, and was not averse to
exercise them.
Her husband, after her departure, sat listlessly turning over the letters
that yet remained unopened, feeling little curiosity, after such
melancholy intelligence, respecting their contents. But, by the
handwriting of the direction on one of them, his attention was gradually
arrested, till he found himself gazing earnestly on those strong, firm,
regular characters. They were perfectly familiar to his eye; but from what
hand they came, he could not conjecture.
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