Yesterday I packed up, and here I am!"
"Death couldn't have been unexpected, I presume?" said the professor,
on whom Bressant's manner made an impression of resignation to his loss
rather too complete.
"The hour of death can only be a matter of guess-work at any time,"
returned the young man. "My father had been expecting to die for some
months past; but he'd been mistaken once or twice before, and I thought
he might be this time. But he happened to guess right."
"Filial way of talking, that," thought Professor Valeyon, rather taken
aback. "Didn't get that from his father; he was soft spoken enough, in
all conscience! Queer now, this matter of resemblance! there's a certain
something in his style of speaking, and in the way he looks just after
he has spoken, that reminds me of Mrs. Margaret. Deaf people are all
something alike, though; and he's been with her a great deal, I suppose.
Well, well! as to the way he spoke about his father, what looked like
indifference may have been merely embarrassment, or an attempt to
disguise feeling; or perhaps it was but a deaf man's peculiarity. At all
events, it can do no harm to suppose so."
"Were you with him during his last moments?" asked he.
"Oh, yes! I saw him die," answered Bressant, nodding, and pulling his
close-cut brown beard.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54