‘I wonder if it will be long before we can hear?’ Thus they went on talking in subdued tones, the impression gradually wearing off, and even the feeling of solemn importance--the sense that, though not unhappy, they ought to conduct themselves with a certain gravity of demeanour becoming sons whose father was just dead. They had no very distinct impression about the difference to be made in their own future, and even Oswald was not mercenary in the ordinary sense of the word. He thought it would be but proper and right that he should be made ‘an eldest son;’ but he did not think it likely--and in that case, though he would be absolutely independent, he probably would not be very rich--not rich enough to make work on his own part unnecessary. So the excitement on this point was mild. They could not be worse off than they were--that one thing he was sure of, and for the rest, one is never sure of anything. By this time they had reached the region of Clubs. Oswald thought there was nothing out of character in just going in for half an hour to see the papers. A man must see the papers whoever lived or died. When the elder brother unbent thus far, the younger brother went home. He found his mother still in her own room taking a cup of tea. She had been crying, for her eyes were red, and she had a shawl wrapped round her, the chill of sudden agitation and distress having seized upon her. Mr. Meredith’s picture, which had not hitherto occupied that place of honour, had been placed above her mantelpiece, and an old Indian box, sweet with the pungent odour of the sandal-wood, stood on the little table at her elbow. ‘I was looking over some little things your dear papa gave me, long before you were born,’ she said, with tears in her voice. ‘Oh, my poor John!’ ‘Mother, you must not think me unfeeling; but I knew so little of him.’ ‘Yes, that was true--yes, that was true. Oh, Edward, I have been asking myself was it my fault? But I could not live in India, and he was so fond of it. He was always well. He did not understand how anyone could be half killed by the climate. I never should have come home but for the doctors, Edward.’ She looked at him so appealingly that Edward felt it necessary to take all the responsibility unhesitatingly upon himself. ‘I am sure you did not leave him as long as you could help it, mother.’ ‘No, I did not--that is just the truth--as long as I could help it; but it does seem strange that we should have been parted for so much of our lives. Oh, what a comfort it is, Edward, to feel that whatever misunderstanding there might be, he knows all and understands everything _now_!’