CHAPTER XXX 450
a moment blame him for it . It is right , noble , Christian : yet it breaks my heart !" And the tears gushed to her fine eyes . Mary bent her head low over her work .
" We are now without father : we shall soon be without home and brother ," she murmured ,
At that moment a little accident supervened , which seemed decreed by fate purposely to prove the truth of the adage , that " misfortunes never come singly ," and to add to their distresses the vexing one of the slip between the cup and the lip . St . John passed the window reading a letter . He entered .
" Our uncle John is dead ," said he .
Both the sisters seemed struck : not shocked or appalled ; the tidings appeared in their eyes rather momentous than afflicting .
" Dead ?" repeated Diana . " Yes ."
She riveted a searching gaze on her brother ' s face . " And what then ?" she demanded , in a low voice .
" What then , Die ?" he replied , maintaining a marble immobility of feature . " What then ? Why -- nothing . Read ."
He threw the letter into her lap . She glanced over it , and handed it to Mary . Mary perused it in silence , and returned it to her brother . All three looked at each other , and all three smiled -- a dreary , pensive smile enough .
" Amen ! We can yet live ," said Diana at last .
" At any rate , it makes us no worse off than we were before ," remarked Mary .