probably to die. She wished that the two
months to elapse before I proceeded to
the University, should be spent with her ;
for that she had many things to say to me in
relation to my future plans and prospects.
This, like the many other letters I had
received from her, from time to time during
the seven years of our separation, was worded
with affectionate tenderness ; but there was
a more touching seriousness in it than I
had taught myself to expect from her, and an
allusion to my father which could not have
been written with dry eyes, since it brought
tears into mine.

The accompanying letter from Mr. Meredith
ran pretty nearly as follows: " And so
your mother has come back to us, Arthur;
and it is my firm belief (I do not wish to
alarm you) that she is not long to remain
with us. I have taken the liberty of
catechising her as closely as a gruff old fellow
who claims the privilege of ancient friendship
and executorship, may; and, if I am to
give credit to her statement, her money has
not ricochetted, as I supposed. The nephew
of the peer has not been able to prevail upon
her to touch the principal; which is more
than I had hoped, seeing that he is one of
your virtuosi—a tribe I detest."

Impatient to revisit a home to which I had
been so long a stranger, I forthwith began to
make the necessary preparations; and, on
the following morning, was on my way to
Battenham. Arrived at that town, there were
but three miles to walk, and my luggage
would be sent for.

Having reached the point at which the coach
came to its journey's end, I alighted, and entered
the Newfoundland Inn, on the quay, where I
directed that some refreshment should be
brought me to the bench outside. It was a
lovely evening, and the place was worthy of
it ; a place endeared to me by many
recollections of infancy, which are always dear,
wherever and whatever be the spot to which
they may have been ordained to fasten
themselves. On my right, was the old bridge,
with its four-and-twenty arches ; on my left,
was the expanded river, soon to be lost in the
Severn sea at its confluence with the Atlantic.
Before me, on the other side of the river,
a gently-rounded hill, over which the
topmost rim of the harvest-moon was just lifting
itself. I watched its slow ascent, and its
effect. Not long before was set, far down in
the water, a pillar of softened fire; and
some time after, there seemed to issue
from a hollow in the bank, first timidly,
and then with less restraint, myriads of
golden and silver sparkles—active,
fermenting, swarming—thronging in a straight
line, until at length (so it seemed) their tail
was completed ; and they laid before my
feet their perfected and burnished path. I
accepted the omen ; and the evil forebodings
which had obtruded upon me when I shook
hands with Mr. Oatway, nearly dispersed
by my exhilarating ride of nearly fifty miles,
vanished before the tranquillising influence
of the scene, and gave place to cheerful
anticipations.

It was rather late when I reached home;
but my coming had not been altogether
unexpected, and I was conducted straight to the
drawing-room. My mother, although
evidently very unwell, arose hastily on my
entrance. I could see that she blushed as
she did so, and that when I advanced she as
suddenly grew pale.

"How like his father!" I heard her say,
as she embraced me. She then presented
me to her husband, who offered me his hand
with a grace I had never seen equalled, and
a conversation ensued, of which I have
forgotten the substance. I only remember that
it was somewhat constrained. I was young,
unaccustomed to novel subjects of discourse,
such as the current topics of the day, of
which I knew nothing; and I was unused to
strange faces. My mother's had grown
strange to me, and, I thought, the constraint
was not of my making alone.

What a change had taken place in the face
and figure of the richly but negligently
attired lady whom my memory at length
reluctantly consented to identify as my
mother! I remembered her in my father's
lifetime, frank, joyous, unembarrassed;
natural in every look, spontaneous in every
gesture. I had seen her in the days of her
sorrow and bereavement; a holy calm
possessed her then. Grief had not smitten her,
but had laid his sanctifying hand upon her.
Now, traces of beauty remained; but no
one, out of those traces, could have imaged
the beauty that once was hers. Sickness,
probably, had done much to change her; but
marks of present care and anxiety were on
her face, which, I remember, awoke in me
speculation rather than sympathy.

When I could bring my scrutiny to bear
unobserved upon Mr. Garston, my surprise
was of a different character. I had expected
—I know not why—to have seen a
resemblance of my father; a tall, commanding
presence, and a long, oval visage; such a
face as we see in the pictures of Raleigh,
from whose family, indeed, on the maternal
side, my father claimed descent. But Mr.
Garston was diminutive; but, though slender,
well-proportioned. His features were variable,
and somewhat irregular; and he was beardless;
an unusual quantity of fair hair falling
in heavy curls on his shoulders. Boy as I
was, I could detect that he was vain from
the protrusion of his well-turned foot;
from the nice conduct of his delicately
white hand, which with a lax wrist hung
from the arm of his chair; and from his
habit of tossing the hair from his brow with
one demonstrative sweep of the head.

He was a very accomplished man. And
how soft and gentle in his tone and manner!
How deferential! too much so, indeed, to a