"Henry had words with Edward in the study the night before Edward died,"
said Caroline Glynn.

She spoke not with acrimony, but with grave severity. Rebecca Ann Glynn
gasped by way of assent. She sat in a wide flounce of black silk in the
corner of the sofa, and rolled terrified eyes from her sister Caroline
to her sister Mrs. Stephen Brigham, who had been Emma Glynn, the one
beauty of the family. The latter was beautiful still, with a large,
splendid, full-blown beauty, she filled a great rocking-chair with her
superb bulk of femininity, and swayed gently back and forth, her black
silks whispering and her black frills fluttering. Even the shock of
death--for her brother Edward lay dead in the house--could not disturb
her outward serenity of demeanor.

But even her expression of masterly placidity changed before her sister
Caroline's announcement and her sister Rebecca Ann's gasp of terror and
distress in response.

"I think Henry might have controlled his temper, when poor Edward was so
near his end," she said with an asperity which disturbed slightly the
roseate curves of her beautiful mouth.

"Of course he did not _know_," murmured Rebecca Ann in a faint tone.

"Of course he did not know it," said Caroline quickly. She turned on her
sister with a strange, sharp look of suspicion. Then she shrank as if
from the other's possible answer.

Rebecca gasped again. The married sister, Mrs. Emma Brigham, was now
sitting up straight in her chair; she had ceased rocking, and was eyeing