to quiver and shake, throwing dancing flecks of light; and the wine in them — why did it make him think of blood? Were they dead then — all three — his two cousins and his brother — dead? Shot! Killed in a bloody and useless war! He was confounded, and bowing his head in his hands sat thus — his elbows on his knees — waiting, hearing, but not comprehending.

He could think only of his mother. He saw her face, aged and grief-stricken. He knew how she loved the boy she had lost, above all, and now she must turn to himself. He sat thus while the lawyer read a lengthy document, and at the end personally addressed him. Then he lifted his head.

“What is this? My uncle? My uncle gone, too? Do you mean dead? My uncle dead, and I — I his heir?”