No stratagems could considerably or usefully prolong his ignorance.

All that could be sought was to take away the abruptness of the change, and shut out the confusion of despair, and the inroads of madness: but I knew my brother, and knew that all exertions to console him would be fruitless.
What could I say?
I was mute, and poured forth those tears on his account, which my own unhappiness had been unable to extort.

In the midst of my tears, I was not unobservant of his motions.

These were of a nature to rouse some other sentiment than grief or, at least, to mix with it a portion of astonishment.
His countenance suddenly became troubled.

His hands were clasped with a force that left the print of his nails in his flesh.