Courtenay, the friend of Eustace, and the near relative of Agatha, now judged that in this moment of calmness he might venture some expressions of consolation. He deeply regretted that he should have mistaken the sleep of the infant for the last slumber of death, and he urged to Eustace the possibility that the union of medical skill and paternal care might relieve his child from its afflictions, and restore it, in natural beauty, to his love. He continued to dwell some time longer upon well intended topics of consolation, until he perceived that Eustace no longer heard his observations, or even remembered his presence. Suddenly, a new thought appeared to awaken the dormant faculties of the latter. “Has Agatha seen her child?” he demanded. “No,” replied the wife of Courtenay; “she was insensible at the time of its birth, and I instantly rushed from the chamber to seek counsel of my husband: he could give none; but, terrified as myself, followed me hither. Now, I deem, that as the child has uttered no sound since it came into the world, it were better she were told of its death; it will be but an anticipation of what must happen; for surely such an unhappy object cannot long exist.” “I know not that,” observed Eustace, sadly; “but at least do as thou hast said, and remove the child from the castle.” Courtenay retired from the apartment; and the wish of De la Pole was speedily obeyed.
But it seemed as if this unmeasured sorrow had brought calmness to him whom they feared it would annihilate: he sought not the apartment of his wife, but retired tranquilly to his own; and there was a stillness in it throughout the night, wholly unlike the restless pacings and disturbed groans which had hitherto been heard to issue from it. In the morning he went to Agatha; their conference was long and sad, for traces of tears were on her countenance when they parted; but the shrieks and agonies which had formerly distinguished their interviews were no more; she had caught consolation and fortitude from him, and her mind, it appeared, had now grown as resigned and tranquil as his own.