ccounts
for the agitation I witnessed when I first looked up. He said he felt he
knew me, but he strove to move or speak in vain; he could not utter the
only question he wished to frame, and was unable to depart without being
convinced if I indeed were Percy Hamilton.

"'And now I have seen you, what have I learnt?' he said, as he ceased a
tale, more of sorrow than of crime.

"'That your mother lives,' I replied, 'that she has never ceased to pray
for and love her son, that you can yet be to her a blessing and
support.'

"Should he wish her sent for, I asked, I knew she would not demand a
second summons. He would not hear of it.

"'Not while I have life enough to seek her. What, bring her all these
miles to me. My mother, my poor forsaken mother. Oh, no, if indeed I may
not live, if strength be not granted me to seek her, then, then it will
be time enough to think of beseeching her to come to me; but not while a
hope of life remains, speak not of it, Percy. Let her know nothing of
me, nothing, till I can implore her blessing on my knees.'"

* * * * *

"I have ceased to argue with him, for he is bent upon it, and perhaps it
is better thus. His mind appears much relieved, he has passed a quiet
night, and this morning the physician finds a wonderful improvement,
wonderful to him perhaps, but not to me."

* * * * *

Percy's letters containing the above extracts, were productive of much
interest to his friends at Oakwood. The details of Cecil's death,
alleviated by sympathy, were forwarded to his father and sister. The
words that had preceded his death Mr. Hamilton carefully suppressed from
his friend, and Mr. Grahame, as if dreading to hear anything that could
confirm his son's reckless disposition, asked no particulars. For three
months he buried himself in increased seclusion at Llangwillan, refusing
all invitations, and denying himself steadfastly to all. At the
termination of that period, however, he once more joined his friends, an
altered and a happier man. His misanthropy had departed, and often Mr.
Hamilton remarked to his wife, that the Grahame of fifty resembled the
Grahame of five-and-twenty far more than he had during the intervening
years. Lilla and Edward were sources of such deep interest to him, that
in their society he seemed to forget the misery occasioned by his other
children. The shock of her brother's death was long felt by Lilla; s