"Poor old father!" he said to himself; "he shall find that I will do my duty by it to the end, for I suppose he will leave me the management-- perhaps fully to take his place." These business matters would intrude, and he did not cavil at them, for he knew that he was carrying out the old man's wishes. Then came the thoughts of Janet again, and they were mingled with a bitter feeling of indignation against her for her readiness to think evil of one whose every thought had been true. But he knew that the reconciliation would be very sweet, and told himself that she was still but a girl, and that her character would ripen by and by. "And be full of trust," he muttered. Then the scene of her leaving that room, angry, jealous, and proud, leaning upon his brother's arm, came back, and a sensation of fierce anger thrilled him. "A coward!" he muttered, "a base, miserable coward! Well, we shall meet to-morrow, and afterward the less we see one another in the future the better for both." Then he hurriedly devoted himself to his father's papers, so as to change the current of his thoughts and try to check the throbbing of his brain. The next day broke gloomy and chill, well in accordance with the solemn occasion. Grantham Reed had instructed that his funeral should be perfectly quiet, and that few people should be asked, but many came unbidden to show their respect for a business friend whose name had been a power in the City, his word as good as any bond. Jessop came late, and took his place in the darkened drawing-room without a word; and, nearly the last, Doctor Praed arrived with Janet, in deep mourning, and her face hidden behind a thick crape veil, without a word passing between her and either of the brothers, from both of whom she seemed to shrink. A few of the oldest friends went up to see the dead; then Janet placed her hand upon her father's arm, and went to the solemn chamber, staying some time, and being led back hanging heavily upon her father's arm, sobbing bitterly and covering her face beneath her veil as she sank down in her seat. Clive's heart throbbed and his eyes grew dim. "God bless her!" he murmured to himself; "she did love him dearly." He felt softened, and as if he could rush across the room, clasp her to his heart, and whisper that he was true, as staunch as steel to her, the darling of his heart, his first and only love. But it was neither time nor place for such an action, and turning to his brother, he signed to him to come, and, in the midst of a silence broken only by Janet's sobs, they two went out and upstairs without a word, to stand by the open coffin where their father lay calmly as if in sleep. "How can I feel enmity now!" thought Clive, "as we stand here before you, father, whom I shall see no more on earth? Am I to forgive him and wipe away the past?"