"The day after the date of his answer to my letter, my father died. But
Edmund and I were already on our way, by different routes, to the
mountain-village whither the lady had preceded us; and having, in our
infatuation, left no address, my brother never saw the letter announcing
our loss, and I not for months.
"A few weeks more, and our elder brother, who had always been delicate,
followed our father. This also remained for a time unknown to me. My
mother had died many years before, and we had now scarce a relation in
the world. Martha Moon is the nearest relative you and I have. Besides
her and you, there were left therefore of the family but myself and your
uncle Edmund--both absorbed in the same worthless woman.
"At the village there were two hostelries. I thought my brother would go
to the better; he thought I would go to the better; so we met at the
worse! I remember a sort of grin on his face when we saw each other, and
have no doubt the same grin was on mine. We always did the same thing,
just as of old. The next morning we set out, I need hardly say each by
himself, to find the lady.
"She had rented a small chalet on the banks of a swift mountain-stream,
and thither, for a week or so, we went every day, often encountering. The
efforts we made to avoid each other being similar and simultaneous, they
oftener resulted in our meeting.
Pages:
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223