"The ceremony of to-day," continues Sir Leicester, "strikingly illustrative of the respect in which my deceased friend"--he lays a stress upon the word, for death levels all distinctions--"was held by the flower of the land, has, I say, aggravated the shock I have received from this most horrible and audacious crime. If it were my brother who had committed it, I would not spare him."
Mr. Bucket looks very grave. Volumnia remarks of the deceased that he was the trustiest and dearest person!
"You must feel it as a deprivation to you, miss," replies Mr. Bucket soothingly, "no doubt. He was calculated to BE a deprivation, I'm sure he was."
Volumnia gives Mr. Bucket to understand, in reply, that her sensitive mind is fully made up never to get the better of it as long as she lives, that her nerves are unstrung for ever, and that she has not the least expectation of ever smiling again. Meanwhile she folds up a cocked hat for that redoubtable old general at Bath, descriptive of her melancholy condition.
"It gives a start to a delicate female," says Mr. Bucket sympathetically, "but it'll wear off."

"If it were my brother who had committed this horrible and audacious crime," continues Sir Leicester, "I would not spare him."
Mr. Bucket looks very grave. Volumnia remarks of the deceased that he was the trustiest and dearest person!
"You must feel it as a deprivation to you, miss," replies Mr. Bucket soothingly.
Volumnia indicates that her sensitive mind is fully made up never to get over it, that her nerves are unstrung for ever, and that she does not expect ever to smile again. 