o any book, save the Bible,
and St. Augustine) was her counsellor and comforter by day and night.

And now, at little past forty, she was left a widow: lovely still
in face and figure; and still more lovely from the divine calm which
brooded, like the dove of peace and the Holy Spirit of God (which indeed
it was), over every look, and word, and gesture; a sweetness which had
been ripened by storm, as well as by sunshine; which this world had
not given, and could not take away. No wonder that Sir Richard and Lady
Grenville loved her; no wonder that her children worshipped her; no
wonder that the young Amyas, when the first burst of grief was over, and
he knew again where he stood, felt that a new life had begun for him;
that his mother was no more to think and act for him only, but that he
must think and act for his mother. And so it was, that on the very day
after his father's funeral, when school-hours were over, instead of
coming straight home, he walked boldly into Sir Richard Grenville's
house, and asked to see his godfather.

"You must be my father now, sir," said he, firmly.

And Sir Richard looked at the boy's broad strong face, and swore a great
and holy oath, like Glasgerion's, "by oak, and ash, and thorn," that
he would be a father to him, and a brother to his mother, for Christ's
sake. And Lady Grenville took the boy by the hand, and walked home
with him to Burrough; and there the two fair women fell on each other's
necks, and wept together; the one for the loss which had been, the
other, as by a prophetic instinct, for the like loss which was to come
to her also. For the sweet St. Leger knew well that her husband's fiery
spirit would never leave his body on a peaceful bed; but that death (as
he prayed almost nightly that it might) would find him sword in
hand, upon the field of duty and of fame. And there those two vowed
everlasting sisterhood, and kept their vow; and after that all things
went on at Burrough as before; and Amyas rode, and shot, and boxed, and
wandered on the quay at Sir Richard's side; for Mrs. Leigh was too
wise a woman to alter one tittle of the training which her husband had
thought best for his younger boy. It was enough that her elder son had
of his own accord taken to that form of life in which she in her secret
heart would fain have moulded both her children. For Frank, God's
wedding gift to that pure love of hers, had won himself honor at home
and abroad; first at the school at Bi