"O, I know very well, Lily," he said, thinking she referred to his condition; "I've taken a glass too much. I'm not ignorant of that; and if grandfather thinks he can bully me without my answering him, he is mistaken. He takes advantage of your being here, and of my being fond of you, to cast out all sorts of insinuations against me." "I have not accused you of anything, Alfred;" said old Wheels sadly. "You hoped I should be kept free from crime," exclaimed Alfred violently. "Hush, Alfred," implored Lily, in awe-struck tones; "you don't know what has occurred. Don't speak so loud! Your voice sounds sinful used in such a way, and at such a time." "I don't understand you, Lily. What's the matter with the time? It's a little late, that's all." "Lost to all sense of shame!" muttered old Wheels. "It is like fate. So I parted from the father, and the son is before me, with the same curse upon him." "O, I can't stand this, and won't!" exclaimed Alfred roughly. "I'll see if mother is awake, and then I'll go to bed." He was moving towards the door, when Lily's terrified look, and the old man's solemn gesture, made him pause. For the first time a fear fell upon him. "Why do you look so?" he asked of her; and then of his grandfather, "and why do _you_ seek to prevent me going in to see mother?" "Because you are drunk, and in your present state would not desire to appear before her, if you knew----" "If I knew what? Is mother worse? Why don't you answer? I _will_ go in and see her!" "Stop, Alfred," said the old man, quietly and solemnly; "Your mother is dead!" CHAPTER VII. THE IRON BOX. The shock of the news sobered Alfred instantly; the full disgrace of his condition came upon him, and made him ashamed to look his sister in the face. "You--you have been very hard to me, grandfather," he said hesitatingly. "I have been to you as you deserved, Alfred. Has your conduct to-night been such as should make me affectionate to you?" "I have no excuse to make," replied Alfred, thoroughly humbled; "but you will do me the justice to believe that it would not have been so with me had I known." "The remorse of a too-late repentance, Alfred, is a bitter experience." A resentful answer rose to Alfred's lips, but he checked it. "When--when did mother die, sir?" he asked. The words were long in coming. It seemed to him a hard question to ask. "An hour ago. I saw a change come over her, and Mr. Gribble ran for the doctor." Alfred remembered seeing Gribble junior tear along, struggling with his coat, and it was another sting to him that a stranger should have performed his duty. "When the doctor came she had passed away." "What did she say? Did she ask for me?" "She did not speak; she was unconscious." "And she died without a word to you or Lily, grandfather? without a thought of me?"