"Good, noble brother," she sobbed, "to comfort me thus in the midst of your own great grief! I do not doubt him; I love him--love him--love him! My faithful darling!"
The reproachful looks she cast at Solomon Fewster, no less than the passionate tenderness of her words, stung him to the soul. In truth he had received a severe blow. When the Lascar's letter was delivered to him, and he read the amazing news that Minnie was on board the "Merry Andrew," he exulted in the triumph that awaited him. "Ellen is mine," he thought. "That fool of a whelp has played straight into my hand!" As such mean souls as Fewster's delight in detecting the meanness of others, he was rejoiced at the thought that Joshua had been playing false with Minnie, although, before reading the Lascar's scrawl, he had no suspicion of it. He walked to Dan's house exultant, and deemed himself fortunate in being in time to witness the tragic scene in Basil Kindred's chamber. But when he heard Ellen's declaration that Joshua was her husband, a groan of despair escaped him, and he became almost desperate in the sudden and unexpected dashing down of all his hopes. This feeling lasted but a very little while. His scheming mind was busy at work calculating the chances for and against him, and rays of light soon illumined the darkness. "If the Lascar keeps his word, and Joshua does not return," he thought, "all may yet be well." Even when Ellen flung at him the words, "I love him--love him--love him!" he said to himself, "Believing that he will come back to vindicate himself. We shall see."
Notwithstanding this conflict of thought, his professional instinct led him to the side of the inanimate form of Basil Kindred. He placed his ear and hand to the dead man's heart; and then, with heartless solemnity he lifted the gaunt form in his arms, and laid it on the bed. Susan's eyes asked him, "Dead?"
"Dead," he answered aloud. "It looks like a sudden stroke."
Dan covered his face; and Ellen shudderingly turned her eyes from Solomon Fewster.
"It is not my fault," he said, as if Ellen's looks conveyed an accusation. "Neither this, nor the letter I have received. It would not have been the act of a friend to keep such a thing to himself: What would you have thought of me, if you had discovered that I had received such a letter, and had concealed it?"