Chapter VI.

--"Like the lily

That once was mistress of the field, and flourished,

I'll hang my head, and perish."

Queen Catherine.

I saw little of Lucy that night. She met us at evening prayers, and tears

were in her eyes as she arose from her knees. Without speaking, she kissed

her father for good night, more affectionately than ever, I thought, and

then turned to me. Her hand was extended, (we had seldom met or parted for

eighteen years, without observing this little act of kindness), but she

did not--nay, _could not_, speak. I pressed the little hand fervently in

my own, and relinquished it again, in the same eloquent silence. She was

seen no more by us until next day.

The breakfast had ever been a happy meal at Clawbonny. My father, though

merely a ship-master, was one of the better class; and he had imbibed many

notions, in the course of his different voyages, that placed him much in

advance of the ordinary habits of his day and country. Then an _American_

ship-master is usually superior to those of other countries. This arises

from some of the peculiarities of our institutions, as well as from the

circumstance that the navy is so small. Among other improvements, my

father had broken in upon the venerable American custom of swallowing a

meal as soon as out of bed. The breakfast at Clawbonny, from my earliest

infancy, or as long as I can remember, had been eaten regularly at nine

o'clock, a happy medium between the laziness of dissipation and the hurry

of ill-formed habits. At that hour the whole family used to meet, still

fresh from a night's repose, and yet enlivened and gay by an hour or two

of exercise in the open air, instead of coming to the family board half

asleep, with a sort of drowsy sulkiness, as, if the meal were a duty, and

not a pleasure. We ate as leisurely as keen appetites would permit;

laughed, chatted, related the events of the morning, conversed of our

plans for the day, and indulged our several tastes and humours, like

people who had been up and stirring, and not like so many drowsy drones

swallowing our food for form's sake. The American breakfast has been

celebrated by several modern writers, and it deserves to be, though

certainly not to be compared to that of France. Still it might be far

better than it is, did our people understand the _mood_ in which it ought

to be enjoyed.

While on this subject, the reader will excuse an old man's prolixity, if I

say a word on the state of the science of the table in general, as it is

put in practice in this great republic. A writer of this country, one Mr.

Cooper, has somewhere said that the Americans are the grossest feeders in

the civilized world, and warns his countrymen to remember that a national

character may be formed in the kitchen. This remark is commented on by

Captain Marryatt, who calls it both unjust and ill-natured. As for the

ill-nature I shall say nothing, unless it be to remark that I do not well

see how that which is undeniably true ought to be thought so very

ill-natured. That it is true, every American who has seen much of other

lands must know. Captain-Marryatt's allegation that the tables are good in

the large towns, has nothing to do with the merits of this question. The

larger American towns are among the best eating and drinking portions of

the world. But what are they as compared to the whole country? What are

the public tables, or the tables of the refined, as compared to the tables

of the mass, even in these very towns? All things are to be judged of by

the rules, and not by the exceptions. Because a small portion of the

American population understand what good cookery is, it by no means

follows that _all_ do. Who would think of saying that the people of

England live on white bait and venison, because the nobility and gentry

(the aldermen inclusive) can enjoy both, in the seasons, _ad libitum?_ I

suspect this Mr. Cooper knows quite as well what he is about, when writing

of America, as any European. If pork fried in grease, and grease pervading

half the other dishes, vegetables cooked without any art, and meats done

to rags, make a good table, then is this Mr. Cooper wrong, and Captain

Marryatt right, and _vice versâ_. As yet, while nature has done so much in

America, art has done but little. Much compared with numbers and time,

certainly, but little as compared with what numbers and time have done

elsewhere. Nevertheless, I would make an exception in favour of America,

as respects the table of one country, though not so much in connection

with the coarseness of the feeding as in the poverty of the food. I

consider the higher parts of Germany to be the portions of the Christian

world where eating and drinking are in the most primitive condition; and

that part of this great republic, which Mr. Alison Would probably call the

_State_ of New England, to come next. In abundance and excellence of food

in the native form, America is particularly favoured; Baltimore being at

the very nucleus of all that is exquisite in the great business of

mastication. Nevertheless, the substitution of cooks from the interior of

New England, for the present glistening tenants of her kitchens, would

turn even that paradise of the epicure into a sort of oleaginous waste.

Enough of cookery.

Lucy did not appear at prayers next morning! I felt her absence as one

feels the certainty of some dreadful evil. Breakfast was announced; still

Lucy did not appear. The table was smoking and hissing; and Romeo

Clawbonny, who acted as the everyday house-servant, or footman, had

several times intimated that it might be well to commence operations, as a

cold breakfast was very cold comfort.

"Miles, my dear boy," observed Mr. Hardinge, after opening the door to

look for the absentee half a dozen times, "we will wait no longer. My

daughter, no doubt, intends to breakfast with Grace, to keep the poor dear

girl company; for it _is_ dull work to breakfast by oneself. You and I

miss Lucy sadly, at this very moment, though we have each other's company

to console us."

We had just taken our seats, when the door slowly opened, and Lucy entered

the room.

"Good morning, dearest father," said the sweet girl, passing an arm round

Mr. Hardinge's neck, with more than her usual tenderness of manner, and

imprinting a long kiss on his bald head. "Good morning, Miles," stretching

towards me a hand, but averting her face, as afraid it might reveal too

much, when exposed fully to my anxious and inquiring gaze. "Grace passed a

pretty quiet night, and is, I think, a little less disturbed this morning

than she was yesterday."

Neither of us answered or questioned the dear nurse. What a breakfast was

that, compared to so many hundreds in which I had shared at that very

table, and in that same room! Three of the accustomed faces were there, it

is true; all the appliances were familiar, some dating as far back as the

time of the first Miles; Romeo, now a grey-headed and wrinkled negro, was

in his usual place; but Chloe, who was accustomed to pass often between

her young mistress and a certain closet, at that meal, which never seemed

to have all we wanted arranged on the table at first, was absent, as was

that precious "young mistress" herself. "Gracious Providence!" I mentally

ejaculated, "is it thy will it should _ever_ be thus? Am I _never_ again

to see those dove-like eyes turned on me in sisterly affection from the

head of my table, as I have so often seen them, on hundreds and hundreds

of occasions?" Lucy's spirits had sometimes caused her to laugh merrily;

and her musical voice once used to mingle with Rupert's and my own more

manly and deeper notes, in something like audible mirth; not that Lucy was

ever boisterous or loud; but, in early girlhood, she had been gay and

animated, to a degree that often blended with the noisier clamour of us

boys. With Grace, this had never happened. She seldom spoke, except in

moments when the rest were still; and her laugh was rarely audible, though

so often heartfelt and joyous. It may seem strange to those who have never

suffered the pang of feeling that such a customary circle was broken up

forever; but, that morning, the first in which I keenly felt that my

sister was lost to me, I actually missed her graceful, eloquent, silence!

"Miles," said Lucy, as she rose from the table, tears trembling on her

eyelids as she spoke, "half an hour hence come to the family room. Grace

wishes to see you _there_ this morning, and I have not been able to deny

her request. She is weak, but thinks the visit will do her good. Do not

fail to be punctual, as waiting might distress her. Good morning, dearest

papa; when I want _you_, I will send for you."

Lucy left us with these ominous notices, and I felt the necessity of going

on the lawn for air. I walked my half-hour out, and returned to the house

in time to be punctual to the appointment. Chloe met me at the door, and

led the way in silence towards the family room. Her hand was no sooner

laid on the latch than Lucy appeared, beckoning me to enter. I found Grace

reclining on that small settee, or _causeuse_, on which we had held our

first interview, looking pallid and uneasy, but still looking lovely and

as ethereal as ever. She held out a hand affectionately, and then I saw

her glance towards Lucy, as if asking to be left with me alone. As for

myself, I could not speak. Taking my old place, I drew my sister's head on

my bosom, and sat holding it in silence for many painful minutes. In that

position I could conceal the tears which forced themselves from my eyes,

it exceeding all my powers to repress these evidences of human grief. As I

took my place, the figure of Lucy disappeared, and the door closed.

I never knew how long a time Grace and I continued in that tender

attitude. I was not in a state of mind to note such a fact, and have since

striven hard to forget most that occurred in that solemn interview. After

a lapse of so many years, however, I find memory painfully accurate on all

the leading circumstances, though it was impossible to recall a point of

which I took no heed at the moment. Such things only as made an impression

is it in my power to relate.

When Grace gently, and I might add faintly, raised herself from my bosom,

she turned on me eyes that were filled with a kind anxiety on my account

rather than on her own.

"Brother," she said, earnestly, "the will of God must be submitted to--I

am very, _very_ ill--broken in pieces--I grow weaker every hour. It is not

right to conceal such a truth from ourselves, or from each other."

I made no reply, although she evidently paused to give me an opportunity

to speak. I could not have uttered a syllable to have saved my life. The

pause was impressive, rather than long.

"I have sent for you, dearest Miles," my sister continued, "not that I

think it probable I shall be called away soon or suddenly--God will spare

me for a little while, I humbly trust, in order to temper the blow to

those I love; but he is about to call me to him, and we must all be

prepared for it; you, and dear, dear Lucy, and my beloved guardian, as

well as myself. I have not sent for you even to tell you this; for Lucy

gives me reason to believe you expect the separation; but I wish to speak

to you on a subject that is very near my heart, while I have strength and

fortitude to speak on it at all. Promise me, dearest, to be calm, and to

listen patiently."

"Your slightest wish will be a law to me, beloved, most precious sister; I

shall listen as if we were in our days of childish confidence and

happiness--though I fear those days are never to return!"

"Feel not thus, Miles, my noble-hearted, manly brother. Heaven will not

desert you, unless you desert your God; it does not desert me, but angels

beckon me to its bliss! Were it not for you and Lucy, and my dear, dear

guardian, the hour of my departure would be a moment of pure felicity. But

we will not talk of this now. You must prepare yourself, Miles, to hear me

patiently, and to be indulgent to my last wishes, even should they seem

unreasonable to your mind at first."

"I have told you, Grace, that a request of your's will be a law to me;

have no hesitation, therefore, in letting me know any, or all

your wishes."

"Let us, then, speak of worldly things; for the last time, I trust, my

brother. Sincerely do I hope that this will be the last occasion on which

I shall ever be called to allude to them. This duty discharged, all that

will remain to me on earth will be the love I bear my friends. This Heaven

itself will excuse, as I shall strive not to let it lessen that I bear

my God."

Grace paused, and I sat wondering what was to follow, though touched to

the heart by her beautiful resignation to a fate that to most so young

would seem hard to be borne.

"Miles, my brother," she continued, looking at me anxiously, "we have not

spoken much of your success in your last voyage, though I have understood

that you have materially increased your means."

"It has quite equalled my expectations; and, rich in my ship and ready

money, I am content, to say nothing of Clawbonny. Do what you will with

your own, therefore, my sister; not a wish of mine shall ever grudge a

dollar; I would rather not be enriched by your loss. Make your bequests

freely, and I shall look on each and all of them as so many memorials of

your affectionate heart and many virtues."

Grace's cheeks flushed, and I could see that she was extremely gratified,

though still tremblingly anxious.

"You doubtless remember that by our father's will, Miles, my property

becomes your's, if I die without children before I reach the age of

twenty-one; while your's would have been mine under the same

circumstances. As I am barely twenty, it is out of my power to make a

legal will."

"It is in your power to make one that shall be equally binding, Grace. I

will go this instant for pen, ink, and paper; and, as you dictate, will I

write a will that shall be even more binding than one that might come

within the rules of the law."

"Nay, brother, that is unnecessary; all I wish I have already said in a

letter addressed to yourself; and which, should you now approve of it,

will be found among my papers as a memorandum. But there should be no

misapprehension between you and me, dearest Miles. I do not wish you even

fully to consent to my wishes, now; take time to consider, and let your

judgment have as much influence on your decision as your own

excellent heart."

"I am as ready to decide at this moment as I shall be a year hence. It is

enough for me that you wish the thing done, to have it done, sister."

"Bless you--bless you--brother"--said Grace, affectionately pressing my

hand to her heart--"not so much that you consent to do as I wish, as for

the spirit and manner in which you comply. Still, as I ask no trifle, it

is proper that I release you from all pledges here given, and allow you

time for reflection. Then, it is also proper you should know the full

extent of what you promise."

"It is enough for me that it will be in my power to perform what you

desire; further than that I make no stipulation."

I could see that Grace was profoundly struck with this proof of my

attachment; but her own sense of right was too just and active to suffer

the matter to rest there.

"I must explain further," she added. "Mr. Hardinge has been a most

faithful steward; and, by means of economy, during my long minority, the

little cost that has attended my manner of living, and some fortunate

investments that have been made of interest-money, I find myself a good

deal richer than I had supposed. In relinquishing my property, Miles, you

will relinquish rather more than two-and-twenty thousand dollars; or quite

twelve hundred a year. There ought to be no misapprehensions on this

subject, between us; least of all at such a moment."

"I wish it were more, my sister, since it gives you pleasure to bestow it.

If it will render you any happier to perfect any of your plans, take ten

thousand of my own, and add to the sum which is now your's. I would

increase, rather than lessen your means of doing good."

"Miles--Miles"--said Grace, dreadfully agitated--"talk not thus--it almost

shakes my purpose! But no; listen now to my wishes, for I feel this will

be the last time I shall ever dare to speak on the subject. In the first

place, I wish you to purchase some appropriate ornament, of the value of

five hundred dollars, and present it to Lucy as a memorial of her friend.

Give also one thousand dollars in money to Mr. Hardinge, to be

distributed in charity. A letter to him on the subject, and one to Lucy,

will also be found among my papers. There will still remain enough to make

suitable presents to the slaves, and leave the sum of twenty thousand

dollars entire and untouched."

"And what shall I do with these twenty thousand dollars, sister?" I asked,

Grace hesitating to proceed.

"That sum, dearest Miles, I wish to go to Rupert. You know that he is

totally without fortune, with the habits of a man of estate. The little I

can leave him will not make him rich, but it may be the means of making

him happy and respectable. I trust Lucy will add to it, when she comes of

age, and the future will be happier for them all than the past."

My sister spoke quick, and was compelled to pause for breath. As for

myself, the reader can better imagine than I can describe my sensations,

which were of a character almost to overwhelm me. The circumstance that I

felt precluded from making any serious objections, added to the intensity

of my suffering, left me in a state of grief, regret, indignation, wonder,

pity and tenderness, that it is wholly out of my power to delineate. Here,

then, was the tenderness of the woman enduring to the last; caring for the

heartless wretch who had destroyed the very springs of life in her

physical being, while it crushed the moral like a worm beneath the foot;

yet bequeathing, with her dying breath, as it might be, all the worldly

goods in her possession, to administer to his selfishness and vanity!

"I know you must think this strange, brother;" resumed Grace, who

doubtless saw how utterly unable I was to reply; "but, I shall not die at

peace with myself without it. Unless he possess some marked assurance of

my forgiveness, my death will render Rupert miserable; with such a marked

assurance, he will be confident of possessing my pardon and my prayers.

Then, both he and Emily are pennyless, I fear, and their lives may be

rendered blanks for the want of the little money it is in my power to

bestow. At the proper time, Lucy, I feel confident, will add her part; and

you, who remain behind me, can all look on my grave, and bless its

humble tenant!"

"Angel!" I murmured--"this is too much! Can you suppose Rupert will

accept this money?"

Ill as I thought of Rupert Hardinge, I could not bring my mind to believe

he was so base as to receive money coming from such a source, and with

such a motive. Grace, however, viewed the matter differently; not that she

attached anything discreditable to Rupert's compliance, for her own

womanly tenderness, long and deeply rooted attachment, made it appear to

her eyes more as an act of compliance with her own last behest, than as

the act of degrading meanness it would unquestionably appear to be, to all

the rest of the world.

"How can he refuse this to me, coming to him, as the request will, from my

grave?" rejoined the lovely enthusiast. "He will owe it to me; he will owe

it to our former affection--for he once loved me, Miles; nay, he loved me

even more than you ever did, or could, dearest--much as I know you

love me."

"By heavens, Grace," I exclaimed, unable to control myself any longer,

"that is a fearful mistake. Rupert Hardinge is incapable of loving

anything but himself; he has never been worthy of occupying the most idle

moment of a heart true and faithful as your's."

These words escaped me under an impulse I found entirely impossible to

control. Scarcely were they uttered, ere I deeply regretted the

indiscretion. Grace looked at me imploringly, turned as pale as death, and

trembled all over, as if on the verge of dissolution. I took her in my

arms, I implored her pardon, I promised to command myself in future, and I

repeated the most solemn assurances of complying with her wishes to the

very letter. I am not certain I could have found it in my heart not to

have recalled my promise, but for the advantage my sister obtained over

me, by means of this act of weakness. There was something so exceedingly

revolting to me in the whole affair, that even Grace's holy weakness

failed to sanctify the act in my eyes; at least so far as Rupert was

concerned. I owe it to myself to add that not a selfish thought mingled

with my reluctance, which proceeded purely from the distaste I felt to

seeing Lucy's brother, and a man for whom I had once entertained a boyish

regard, making himself so thoroughly an object of contempt. As I

entertained serious doubts of even Rupert's sinking so low, I felt the

necessity of speaking to my sister on the subject of such a contingency.

"One might hesitate about accepting your money, after all, dearest

sister," I said; "and it is proper you give me directions what I am to do,

in the event of Rupert's declining the gift."

"I think that is little probable, Miles," answered Grace, who lived and

died under a species of hallucination on the subject of her early lover's

real character--"Rupert may not have been able to command his affections,

but he cannot cease to feel a sincere friendship for me; to remember our

ancient confidence and intimacy. He will receive the bequest, as you would

take one from dear Lucy," added my sister, a painful-looking smile

illuminating that angelic expression of countenance to which I have so

often alluded; "or, as that of a sister. _You_ would not refuse such a

thing to Lucy's dying request, and why should Rupert to mine?"

Poor Grace! Little did she see the immense difference there was in my

relation to Lucy and that which Rupert bore to her. I could not explain

this difference, however, but merely assented to her wishes, renewing, for

the fourth or fifth time, my pledges of performing with fidelity all she

asked at my hands. Grace then put into my hands an unsealed letter

addressed to Rupert, which she desired me to read when alone, and which I

was to have delivered with the legacy or donation of money.

"Let me rest once more on your bosom, Miles," said Grace, reclining her

head in my arms, quite exhausted under the reaction of the excitement she

had felt while urging her request. "I feel happier, at this moment, than I

have been for a long time; yet, my increasing weakness admonishes me it

cannot last long. Miles, darling, you must remember all our sainted mother

taught you in childhood, and you will not mourn over my loss. Could I

leave you united to one who understood and appreciated your worth, I

should die contented. But you will be left alone, poor Miles; for a time,

at least, you will mourn for me."

"Forever--long as life lasts, beloved Grace," I murmured, almost in her

ear.

Exhaustion kept my sister quiet for a quarter of an hour, though I felt

an occasional pressure of her hands, both of which held one of mine; and I

could hear words asking blessings and consolation for me, whispered, from

time to time, in heartfelt petitions to heaven. As she gained strength by

repose, my sister felt the desire to continue the discourse revive. I

begged her not to incur the risk of further fatigue but she answered,

smiling affectionately in my face--

"Rest!--There will be no permanent rest for me, until laid by the side of

my parents. Miles, do your thoughts ever recur to that picture of the

future that is so precious to the believer, and which leads us to hope, if

not absolutely to confide in it as a matter of faith, that we may

recognise each other in the next state of being, and that in a communion

still sweeter than any of this life, since it will be a communion free

from all sin, and governed by holiness?"

"We sailors give little heed to these matters, Grace; but I feel that, in

future, the idea you have just mentioned will be full of consolation

to me."

"Remember, my best-beloved brother, it is only the blessed that can enjoy

such a recognition--to the accursed it must add an additional weight to

the burthen of their woe."

"Felix trembled!" The thought that even this chance of again meeting my

sister, and of communing with her in the form in which I had ever seen and

loved her might be lost, came in aid of other good resolutions that the

state of the family had quickened in my heart. I thought, however, it

might be well not to let Grace lead the conversation to such subjects,

after all that had just passed, repose becoming necessary to her again. I

therefore proposed calling Lucy, in order that she might be carried to her

own room. I say carried; for, by a remark that fell from Chloe, I had

ascertained that this was the mode in which she had been brought to the

place of meeting. Grace acquiesced; but while we waited for Chloe to

answer the bell, she continued to converse.

"I have not exacted of you, Miles," my sister continued, "any promise to

keep my bequest a secret from the world; your own sense of delicacy would

do that; but, I will make it a condition that you do not speak of it to

either Mr. Hardinge or Lucy. They may possibly raise weak objections,

particularly the last, who has, and ever has had, some exaggerated

opinions about receiving money. Even in heydays of poverty, and poor as

she was, you know, notwithstanding our true love for each other, and close

intimacy, I never could induce Lucy to receive a cent. Nay, so scrupulous

has she been that the little presents which friends constantly give and

receive, she would decline, because she had not the means of offering them

in return."

I remembered the gold the dear girl had forced on me, when I first went to

sea, and could have kneeled at her feet and called her "blessed."

"And this did not make you love and respect Lucy the less, my sister? But

do not answer; so much conversing must distress you."

"Not at all, Miles. I speak without suffering, nor does the little talking

I do enfeeble me in the least. When I appear exhausted, it is from the

feelings which accompany our discourse. I talk much, very much, with dear

Lucy, who hears me with more patience than yourself, brother!"

I knew that this remark applied to Grace's wish to dwell on the unknown

future, and did not receive it as a reproach in any other sense. As she

seemed calm, however, I was willing to indulge her wish to converse with

me, so long as she dwelt on subjects that did not agitate her. Speaking of

her hopes of heaven had a contrary effect, and I made no further

opposition.

"Lucy's hesitation to be under the obligations you mention did not lessen

her in your esteem?" I repeated.

"You know it could not, Miles. Lucy is a dear, good girl; and the more

intimately one knows her, the more certain is one to esteem her. I have

every reason to bless and pray for Lucy; still, I desire you not to make

either her or her father acquainted with my bequest."

"Rupert would hardly conceal such a thing from so near and dear friends."

"Let Rupert judge of the propriety of that for himself. Kiss me, brother;

do not ask to see me again to-day, for I have much to arrange with Lucy;

to-morrow I shall expect a long visit. God bless you, my own, dear,--my

_only_ brother, and ever have you in his holy keeping!"

I left the room as Chloe entered; and, in threading the long passage that

led to the apartment which was appropriated to my own particular purposes,

as an office, cabinet, or study, I met Lucy near the door of the latter. I

could see she had been weeping, and she followed me into the room.

"What do you think of her, Miles?" the dear girl asked, uttering the words

in a tone so low and plaintive as to say all that she anticipated herself.

"We shall lose her, Lucy; yes, 'tis God's pleasure to call her to

himself."

Had worlds depended on the effort, I could not have got out another

syllable. The feelings which had been so long pent up in Grace's presence

broke out, and I am not ashamed to say that I wept and sobbed like

an infant.

How kind, how woman-like, how affectionate did Lucy show herself at that

bitter moment. She said but little, though I think I overheard her

murmuring "poor Miles!"--"poor, _dear_ Miles!"--"what a blow it must be

to a brother!"--"God will temper this loss to him!" and other similar

expressions. She took one of my hands and pressed it warmly between both

her own; held it there for two or three minutes; hovered round me, as the

mother keeps near its slumbering infant when illness renders rest

necessary; and seemed more like a spirit sympathizing with my grief than a

mere observer of its violence. In reflecting on what then passed months

afterwards, it appeared to me that Lucy had entirely forgotten herself,

her own causes of sorrow, her own feelings as respected Grace, in the

single wish to solace me. But this was ever her character; this was her

very nature; to live out of herself, as it might be, and in the existences

of those whom she esteemed or loved. During this scene, Lucy lost most of

the restraints which womanhood and more matured habits had placed on her

deportment; and she behaved towards me with the innocent familiarity that

marked our intercourse down to the time I sailed in the Crisis. It is

true, I was too dreadfully agitated at first to take heed of all that

passed; but, I well remember, that, before leaving me in obedience to a

summons from Grace, she laid her head affectionately on mine, and kissed

the curls with which nature had so profusely covered the last. I thought,

at the time, notwithstanding, that the salute would have been on the

forehead, or cheek, three years before, or previously to her acquaintance

with Drewett.

I was a long time in regaining entire self-command; but, when I did, I

opened my sister's letter to Rupert, agreeably to her request, and perused

it thrice without a pause, even to reflect. It was conceived in

these words:--

"My Dearest Rupert--

"God, in his infinite and inscrutable wisdom, when you read this letter,

will have seen fit to call me to himself. Let not this seeming loss, in

any manner, afflict you, my friend; for I feel the humble assurance that

I shall reap the full benefit of the Saviour's great sacrifice. I could

not have been happy in this life, Rupert; and it is a mercy that I am

taken, thus early, to a better. It grieves me to part from your

excellent father, from yourself, from our precious and rightfully

beloved Lucy, and from dear, dear Miles. This is the last tribute I pay

to nature, and I hope it will be pardoned for its character. There is a

strong hope within me, that my death will be sanctified to the benefit

of my friends. With this view, and this view only, beloved Rupert, I

wish you to remember it. In all other respects let it be forgotten. You

have found it impossible to command your affections, and worlds would

not have tempted me to become your wife without possessing all your

heart. I pray daily, almost hourly"--tears had evidently blotted this

portion of the letter--"for you and Emily. Live together, and make each

other happy. She is a sweet girl; has enjoyed advantages that Clawbonny

could not bestow, and which will contribute to your gratification. In

order that you may sometimes think of me"--poor Grace was not aware of

this contradiction in her requests--"Miles will send you a legacy that I

leave you. Accept it as a little fortune with Emily. I wish sincerely,

it were much larger; but you will not overlook the intention, and forget

the insufficiency of the sum. Small as it is, I trust it will enable you

to marry at once, and Lucy's heart may be confided in for the rest.

"Farewell, Rupert--I do not say, farewell Emily; for I think this

letter, as well as its object, had better remain a secret between you

and me, and my brother--but I wish your future wife all earthly

happiness, and an end as full of hope as that which attends the

death-bed of your affectionate

"Grace Wallingford."

Oh! woman, woman, what are ye not, when duly protected and left to the

almost divine impulses of your generous natures! What may ye not become,

when rendered mercenary and envious by too close a contact with those

worldly interests which are never admitted to an ascendancy without

destroying all your moral beauty!

Miles Wallingford Sequel to "Afloat and Ashore" · 第 6 / 30 章