severity.

But it was no nonsense to my poor father. He was awed at the goodness
and beauty with which he found himself surrounded. His thoughts were too
full of what had been, what was, and what was yet to be, to let him
devote himself to these young people as he would dearly have liked to do.
He could only look at them, wonder at them, fall in love with them, and
thank heaven that George had been brought up in such a household.

When luncheon was over, Yram said, "I will now send you to a room where
you can lie down and go to sleep for a few hours. You will be out late
to-night, and had better rest while you can. Do you remember the drink
you taught us to make of corn parched and ground? You used to say you
liked it. A cup shall be brought to your room at about five, for you
must try and sleep till then. If you notice a little box on the dressing-
table of your room, you will open it or no as you like. About half-past
five there will be a visitor, whose name you can guess, but I shall not
let her stay long with you. Here comes the servant to take you to your
room." On this she smiled, and turned somewhat hurriedly away.

My father on reaching his room went to the dressing-table, where he saw a
small unpretending box, which he immediately opened. On the top was a
paper with the words, "Look--say nothing--forget." Beneath this was some
cotton wool, and then--the two buttons and the lock of his own hair, that
he had given Yram when he said good-bye to her.

The ghost of the lock that Yram had then given him, rose from the dead,
and smote him as with a whip across the face. On what dust-heap had it
not been thrown how many long years ago? Then she had never forgotten
him? to have been remembered all these years by such a woman as that, and
never to have heeded it--never to have found out what she was though he
had seen her day after day for months. Ah! but she was then still
budding. That was no excuse. If a loveable woman--aye, or any woman--has
loved a man, even though he cannot marry her, or even wish to do so, at
any rate let him not forget her--and he had forgotten Yram as completely
until the last few days, as though he had never seen her. He took her
little missive, and under "Look," he wrote, "I have;" under "Say
nothing," "I will;" under "forget," "never." "And I never shall," he
said to himself, as he replaced the box upon the table. He then lay down
to rest upon the bed, but he could get