Grey's first impulse was to fall upon his neck and cry out:
"I know it. I heard it. I was there. We will bear it together," but when
he remembered that his grandfather had said: "that he was not to know,"
he restrained himself, and said very quietly:
"Grandpa is dead. Aunt Lucy told me. When is the funeral?"
The voice was not like Grey's, and Mr. Jerrold looked up quickly to meet
the eyes which fell at once as did his own. Neither could look in the
other's face with that secret which each knew and was hiding from the
other. But both were outwardly calm, and the breakfast passed quietly,
with no reference to the recent event occupying the minds of all. Mrs.
Jerrold and her sister had expected that Grey would feel his loss keenly
and possibly be noisy in his boyish demonstrations of grief, but they
were not prepared for the torpor which seemed to have settled upon him,
and which kept him indoors all day sitting by the fire over which he
shivered as if in a chill, though his cheeks were crimson, and he
sometimes wiped the drops of sweat from his lips and forehead.
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