'Who is dead?' Stephen inquired, stepping down.
Chapter XXVI
'To that last nothing under earth.'
All eyes were turned to the entrance as Stephen spoke, and the
ancient-mannered conclave scrutinized him inquiringly.
'Why, 'tis our Stephen!' said his father, rising from his seat;
and, still retaining the frothy mug in his left hand, he swung
forward his right for a grasp. 'Your mother is expecting ye--
thought you would have come afore dark. But you'll wait and go
home with me? I have all but done for the day, and was going
directly.'
'Yes, 'tis Master Stephy, sure enough. Glad to see you so soon
again, Master Smith,' said Martin Cannister, chastening the
gladness expressed in his words by a strict neutrality of
countenance, in order to harmonize the feeling as much as possible
with the solemnity of a family vault.
'The same to you, Martin; and you, William,' said Stephen, nodding
around to the rest, who, having their mouths full of bread and
cheese, were of necessity compelled to reply merely by compressing
their eyes to friendly lines and wrinkles.
'And who is dead?' Stephen repeated.
'Lady Luxellian, poor gentlewoman, as we all shall, said the
under-mason. 'Ay, and we be going to enlarge the vault to make
room for her.'
'When did she die?'
'Early this morning,' his father replied, with an appearance of
recurring to a chronic thought. 'Yes, this morning.
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