Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Millbank, or Roger Irving's Ward: A Novel
Avery window and shutter at Millbank was closed. Knots of crape were streaming from the bell knobs, and all around the house there was that deep hush which Only the presence Of death can inspire. Indoors there was a kind of twilight gloom pervading the rooms, and the servants spoke in whispers whenever they came near the chamber where the Old squire lay in his handsome coffin, waiting the arrival of Roger, who had been in St. Louis when his father died, and who was expected home on the night when our story Opens. Squire Irving had died suddenly in the act Of writing to his boy Roger, and when found by Old Aleck, his hand was grasp ing the pen, and his head was resting on the letter he would never finish. Heart disease was the verdict Of the inquest, and then the electric wires carried the news of his decease to Roger, and to the widow Of the squire's eldest son, who lived on Lexington avenue, New York, and who always called her self Mrs. Walter Scott Irving, fancying that in some way the united names of two so illustrious authors as Irving and Scott shed a kind Of literary halo upon one who bore them.
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