A sombre bitterness veiled the eyes fixed upon the distant vistas of the garden.
'I hate my old house,' he said slowly.

'Its memories are intolerable.
My father was a very eminent person, and had many friends.

His children saw nothing of him, and had not much reason to love him.

My mother died there--of an illness it is appalling to think of.

No, no--not Alice's illness!--not that.