I

every line and feature with a strangely sad and earnest scrutiny, she closed her arms tightly round my neck, and hiding her face upon my breast, sobbed and cried aloud; but I think her broken exclamations: "Oh, my darling; oh, my poor, poor darling," "had almost as much reference to him whom she had lost, him whose memory she had cherished with such a true and faithful love, as to him whom she held in her arms and loved, as I knew well, more deeply and more truly than all the world beside. Although I was nearly nineteen, and accustomed to look upon myself as almost a man, am not in the least ashamed to confess, that I drew her to me closer and more closely still, that I bent down my face, and pressed it to her own, and that I mingled my tears with hers. I remember in my heart of hearts, not only then, whilst I held her in my arms, but also later on, whilst I was on my knees by the side of my bed, that I was the only son of my mother, and that she was a widow; and as I thought of this I knew that my tears were no disgrace to my early manhood. Before I laid me down to rest that night in the snug little chamber which I had always occupied, a chamber whose every arrangement seemed to speak to me of my mother's love and care, I once again called God to witness how truly and how faithfully I would guard and cherish her; and, when, after tapping at my door to know if she might enter-thus reminding me that she recognised the change in our relations, so to speak, which my advanced age supposed, for formerly she had entered as a right, without seeking for leave or permission-she came over to my bed and told me that she could not sleep without one more look at the darling of her heart, I put out my arms, and

drew her face down to mine, and whispered in her ears the self-same words which I had spoken-the self-same promise which I had made to God but a few minutes before; and I thank that same God— oh! how I thank Him-that He enabled me to keep this promise, even in its lightest thought, to keep it in its fullest sense and bearing, to the latest moment of my mother's life.

On our arrival at Percymoate, a carriage from the Grange was waiting for Eustace. What was my astonishment when the servant approached and handed me a note, which I knew at once, from the coat of arms on the seal, to be from Sir Percy. The substance of its contents was a request that I would spend at least a fortnight of my vacation at the Grange. Sir Percy, however, added, that, although I was to consider myself pledged to spend at least one fortnight with them, I was also to remember that this did not exclude my spending as much additional time with them as I could spare from my mother. In a postscript he added, that there was a pony in his stables which he would do himself the pleasure of sending down to our cottage next morning, and which, he trusted, I would consider at my disposal so long as I remained at Percymoate.

I don't know whether the contents of this note made my poor mother or myself the prouder, for, although, as I think I have already mentioned, Sir Percy had always been kind to me, in his own distant way, I had never been invited to stay at the Grange before. I felt both his kindness and his condescension (for, after all, there was a certain degree of condescension in his taking so much notice of me) very deeply. As soon as I could get away for a moment from my mother, I went over to

Eustace, to make him acquainted with the contents of the note; and, from the flush which passed across his face, and the way in which he pressed my hand, I knew well how grateful he was to his father for this act of kindness towards me, and how deep and sincere was the pleasure which this matter afforded my dear friend, both on his own account and on mine. I charged him to bear my most grateful acknowledgments to Sir Percy, and then we parted for a time; but, as Eustace would have it, only till next day.

After spending a very happy and a very pleasant fortnight with my mother, I went to pay my visit at the Grange, a visit which I regarded as quite a great event in my life. Eustace came down to the village for me on the appointed day, and drove me to the Hall, which I confess that I entered with some little trepidation of spirit. Sir Percy received me very kindly, and assured me in words which, coming from him, seemed almost warm, that it gave him great pleasure to see the son of one of his earliest college friends under his roof. Although I lived to see him a poor, broken, miserable old man, he was, at the time of which I write, as handsome and as noble-looking a gentleman as you would have found in all England. He was only a baronet, but he traced his pedigree up to a period when the names of many a family, which now rejoices in ducal honours, had never been heard of; and I firmly believe that Sir Percy considered himself as noble and as true a gentleman as the highest amongst them. If he were stiff and unbending to a degree that was hardly pleasant to those with whom he came in contact, you could not help feeling that this arose, not from any desire to make himself

disagreeable, but simply from his overpowering conviction of his own dignity, and the grave responsibility that ever rested upon him, a responsibility of which he might not lose sight, even in his most unguarded moments, as the representative of a race, which counted I know not how many baronets of untarnished honour and of spotless fame in its line. Sir Percy kept very much aloof from the county politics. I dare say he shrunk too much from the contact with common people, which is the necessary fate of every one who ventures to take part in contested elections, and such like vulgar proceedings; and, although it was said that more than one government had shown very great anxiety to secure for itself the immense influence which he possessed as one of the largest landholders in the county, and had caused it to be made known to him that an earldom would not be considered as too high a reward for such services on his part, still, Sir Percy had never stirred. I am sure he considered that the blood of the Percys, which crimsoned his veins, could be ennobled by no title which any government could offer to him; and hence, although at election times he never failed to notify to his tenants, through his steward, his will that they should proceed in a body to vote for the Tory candidate, he never showed his patrician features on the hustings, or exposed himself to the risk of those unpleasant collisions with the mob which are so apt to rise in moments of excitement, and in which the same mob are equally apt to forget the respect and reverence due to their hereditary rulers. The only exception which I ever knew Sir Percy make to this rule occurred in this wise :-One election time, in addition to the legitimate contest between Whig and Tory

which was always waged in Yorkshire, and for which the great rival families of the county supplied the candidates, the Radicals had the audacity to bring forward some low, manufacturing man or other in their interest, a proceeding which, at that time, filled the aristocracy with mingled feelings of horror and disgust; for you must remember that I am writing of a period when the Reform Bill had not been passed, and when Radicals and radical principles were not so common as they are now-adays. In order to mark as strongly as possible his disapprobation of such an audacious proceeding, Sir Percy, on this occasion, headed his tenants to the poll. I was only a boy at the time, but I remember the sight well.

Sir Percy, stern and immovable, and looking neither to the right nor to the left, sat in an open barouche, drawn by four magnificent gray horses. Blue streamers floated about their heads, whilst the postillions and the two footmen wore rosettes of the same colour on their breasts. Nay, Sir Percy himself had so far conformed to the exigencies of the occasion as to wear a blue satin cravat, and a blue rosette in his coat. Immediately behind his carriage rode his tenants in large numbers, four abreast; stout, sturdy farmers, mounted on steeds as sleek and comfortable as their masters. As the procession passed through the village street on its way to the county town, it made a gallant show, and the low Radical, as was only right and to be expected, was ignominiously defeated and put to flight. Such, however, is the degeneracy of the times, that I am afraid the old county families, who so long looked upon its representation in the senate of the country as belonging to them, quite as a matter of right, find