He was growing old, and his nerves were not as strong as they used to be, and he supported himself with some difficulty as he bowed to his guests with old-fashioned politeness, and, excusing himself, begged his old friend Sir Frederick Drummond to take his place. But as the door closed behind him, and he found himself surrounded by frightened servants, he tottered and his face grew gray. "You will kill me among you," he muttered. "Where is my nephew? Will none of you fools tell me what is the matter?" "He's in there," returned the butler, who was looking very scared, and pointing to the library; and the next moment Erle came out with a face as white as death. "Oh! uncle, uncle, don't go in till they have told you. Percy is there, and--" but Mr. Huntingdon only motioned him aside with his old peremptoriness, and then closed the door upon them. He knew what he should find there--he knew it when they whispered into his ear that something had happened; and then he walked feebly across the room to the couch, where something lay with strange rigid lines under a satin coverlid that had been flung over it; and as he drew it down and looked at the face of his dead grandson, he knew that the hand of death had struck him also, that he would never get over this--never! CHAPTER XXXVIII. NEA AND HER FATHER MEET AGAIN. Whence art thou sent from us? Whither thy goal? How art thou rent from us Thou that were whole? As with severing of eyelids and eyes, as with sundering of body and soul. Who shall raise thee From the house of the dead? Or what man shall praise thee, That thy praise may be said? Alas thy beauty! alas thy body! alas thy head! What wilt thou leave me Now this thing is done? A man wilt thou give me, A son for a son, For the light of my eyes, the desire of my life, the desirable one. ALGERNON C. SWINBURNE. Erle had followed him into the room, but Mr. Huntingdon took no notice of him. If he could, he would have spoken to him and implored him to leave him, but his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. He wished to be alone with his grandson, to hide from every one, if he could, that he was stricken down at last.