As soon as Doctor Harman had taken his departure, Geoffery, with an
officious affectation of sympathy, followed Alfred up stairs.
He found him seated beside the bed on which the deceased was laid, and
leaning against it, with his face buried in both his hands.
The attendants had all quitted the apartment; Geoffery attempted some
commonplace expressions of condolence. Alfred moved his head in a
desponding manner, but did not raise it.
Geoffery while standing waiting, as it were,--for he deemed it necessary
to remain a few moments with his cousin,--cast his eyes, from mere
unfeeling idleness, round the apartment, when something on an adjacent
table arrested his attention. He looked down upon it for a few seconds,
then raised his eyes cautiously in the direction of Alfred, and
perceiving that his face was still covered, lifted the object of his
curiosity, which appeared to be a letter, slid it into his pocket, and
after repeating his expressions of condolence and adding some sage
advice respecting firmness under the unavoidable trials of life, and the
expediency of courting the salutary influence of sleep, was about to
retire; but Alfred, while he was bidding him good night, looked up for a
moment, and said,
"I would not on any account have it known that poor Willoughby had been
guilty of suicide. They may deny him Christian burial;--besides it would
add greatly to my poor mother's affliction. Did not the doctor say
something of a sudden seizure, a fit, having similar symptoms, and of
its being likely to prove equally fatal?"
"He did."
"Let it be so supposed then, and discourage all further inquiry. Good
night--" and here he again covered his face; on which Geoffery sought
his own room, and having carefully shut and bolted his door, drew the
purloined letter from his pocket, and without waiting to sit down,
perused its contents with a countenance of eager satisfaction. He then
proceeded to unfold and read an enclosure which seemed to make him look
grave. After this he paced the apartment lost in thought, from which he
broke into occasional soliloquy, thus: "My coming over too, just at this
juncture, was the merest chance: if I had not been short of cash, I
should not have thought of it." A long pause followed.--"He was always a
vain fool," he recommenced: "the dread of being laughed at, I make no
doubt, has goaded him to this! There must have been derangement of
course, temporary, at least." He opened the letter again, and looked at
a passage or two--"Incoherent enough!" he ejaculated. "But my happening
to see the packet," he pursued, "was so fortunate----He had not noticed
it, I should think----that, however, is a point which I must ascertain,
for he appears to be by some means, aware of the suicide----but can he
prove it, if necessary?----at present he seems desirous to conceal the
fact, which is so far well, the mystery will look suspicious.----" Here
he again opened the enclosure, shook his head, looked serious, and paced
the room once or twice----"Their being abroad, however, just at this
time, has happened well," he said--stopped and stood still--then added,
after a long pause of deep and motionless thought, "This is most
probably the only proof----It would certainly appear from its style that
he had made no previous disclosure----I must talk with him----I shall
easily perceive how far he is informed, and, at any rate, it is highly
improbable that the letter has been seen by any witness."