Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. “He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. It shall be done as you direct. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist.
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