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All through that long night he knelt beside the bed upon which lay the corpse of the man whom he had loved as a son. The bedroom of Maurice was on the ground floor and the windows looked out onto a little lawn, which was girdled by thick trees in which the nightingales were singing. The sorrowful songs of the birds, flitting in the moonlight and amid the cloistral dusk of the trees, seemed to Jen like a requiem over the young life which had passed away. The major was broken-hearted by the sorrow which had come upon him, and when he issued from the chamber of death he looked years older than when he entered it. It seemed to his big loving heart as though the woman he loved had died anew in the person of her son., "She used to be," was Judith's frank reply. "But since you've become an artist, like Aunt Louise, she fairly adores you!", "Mr. Bingham will be along presently," said the late Miss Auborn with great composure, arranging her draperies with a careful hand. She was looking remarkably smart and it was evident that the amiable Mr. Bingham had totally eclipsed Art for her. "We only met the Lindleys by chance and Ferdinand had some business to transact that could not wait.".