Augusta walked up to the bed and gently lifted the sheet, revealing the
sweet face, fringed round about with golden hair, of little Jeannie, in
her coffin.

Eustace gave an exclamation, and started back violently. He had not been
prepared for such a sight; indeed it was the first such sight that he had
ever seen, and it shocked him beyond words. Augusta, familiarised as she
was herself with the companionship of this beauteous clay cold Terror,
had forgotten that, suddenly and without warning to bring the living into
the presence of the dead, is not the wisest or the kindest thing to do.
For, to the living, more especially to the young, the sight of death is
horrible. It is such a fearsome comment on their health and strength.
Youth and strength are merry; but who can be merry with yon dead thing in
the upper chamber? Take it away! thrust it underground! it is an insult
to us; it reminds us that we, too, die like others. What business has its
pallor to show itself against our ruddy cheeks?

"I beg your pardon," whispered Augusta, realising something of all this
in a flash, "I forgot, you do not know--you must be shocked--Forgive me!"

"Who is it?" he said, gasping to get back his breath.

"My sister," she answered. "It was to try and save her life that I wanted
the money. When I told her that I could not get it, she gave up and died.
Your uncle killed her. Come."

Greatly shocked, he followed her back into the sitting-room, and then--as
soon as he got his composure--apologised for having intruded himself upon
her in such an hour of desolation.