When
she re-entered he sat as if he were only finishing the glass she had
left him with. The decanter revealed what had taken place, but the
mother blaming herself, thought it better to say nothing.
Cornelius leaving the room in a somewhat excited mood, but concealing
it, sauntered into the library, and thence into the study, where was his
father's own collection of books. Coming there upon a volume by a
certain fashionable poet of the day, he lighted the lamp which no one
used but his father, threw himself into his father's chair, and began to
read. He never had been able to read long without weariness, and from
the wine he had drunk and his weakness, was presently overcome with
sleep. His mother came and went, and would not disturb him, vexed that
she failed in her care over him. I fear, poor lady! her satisfaction in
having him under her roof was beginning to wane in the continual trouble
of a presence that showed no signs of growth any more than one of the
dead. But her faith in the over-care of the father of all was strong,
and she waited in hope.
The night now was very dark, "with hey, ho, the wind and the rain!" Up
above, the major and the boy talked of sweet, heavenly things, and down
below the youth lay snoring, where, had his father been at home, he
dared not have showed himself.
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