Poor Mr.Buxton, too! How is he?
When one thinks of him, and of her years of illness, it seems like a happy release." She could have gone on for any length of time, but Frank could not bear this ruffling up of his soothed grief, and told her that his father was expecting him home to dinner.
"Ah! I am sure you must not disappoint him.

He'll want a little cheerful company more than ever now.

You must not let him dwell on it, Mr.Frank, but turn his thoughts another way by always talking of other things.

I am sure if I had some one to speak to me in a cheerful, pleasant way, when poor dear Mr.Browne died, I should never have fretted after him as I did; but the children were too young, and there was no one to come and divert me with any news.

If I'd been living in Combehurst, I am sure I should not have let my grief get the better of me as I did.