uncle and my late employer. Upright, Mr. Humphreys—open as the day; liberal to all in his dealings. He had the heart to feel and the hand to accommodate. But there it was: there was the stumbling-block—his unfortunate health—or, as I might more truly phrase it, his want of health.”
“Yes, poor man. Did he suffer from any special disorder before his last illness—which, I take it, was little more than old age?”
“Just that, Mr. Humphreys—just that. The flash flickering slowly away in the pan,” said Cooper, with what he considered an appropriate gesture,—“the golden bowl gradually ceasing to vibrate. But as to your other question I should return a negative answer. General absence of vitality? yes: special complaint? no, unless you reckon a nasty cough he had with him. Why, here we are pretty much at the house. A handsome mansion, Mr. Humphreys, don’t you consider?”
It deserved the epithet on the whole: but it was oddly proportioned—a very tall red-brick house, with a plain parapet concealing the roof
