I crept upstairs to my mother's door, and reverently entered the
dim-lit room. They had laid the two dead lovers side by side upon
the bed. Very peacefully they slept the sleep that was their
meeting--peacefully as though no wickedness had marred their lives or
wrought their death. I could look upon them calmly now. My father
had left his heritage--a heritage far different from that which he
went forth to win; but I accepted it nevertheless. Had they known,
in heaven, the full extent of that inheritance, would they not, as I
kissed their dead lips in token of my acceptance, have given some
sign to stay me? Had I known, as I bent over them, to what the oath
in my heart would bring me, would I even then have renounced it?
I cannot say. The dead lips were silent, and only the dead know what
will be.
Uncle Loveday was already at table when I descended. But small was
our pretence of eating. Mrs. Busvargus, it is true, had lost no
appetite through sorrow; but Mrs. Busvargus was accustomed to such
scenes, and in her calling treated Death with no more to-do than she
would a fresh customer at her husband's inn.
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