s grief for his loss.

Mr. Talton finding the impracticability of his endeavours to alleviate
the sorrow of the Captain, took his leave, and set out for London, to
acquaint Lady Corbet with the death of her son: as, however disagreeable
the task, he rather chose to inform her himself, than hazard an abrupt
disclosure from an uninterested person, or even by epistolary
communication.

The Captain felt relieved at his departure, as he wished to visit the
grave of Sir Henry, but was unwilling to betray the weakness of his
heart, even to his friend. The ensuing morning, therefore, he went on
shore, and, unattended, pursued his way to the church-yard; where a
simple flag of fragrant turf marked the spot where the remains of the
unfortunate youth were laid.

"Humble indeed is thy bed of rest, my poor St. Ledger," he exclaimed:
"by far too humble for the virtues which I am certain were the real
possessors of thy breast!--In thee my Ellenor has lost the friend she
too, perhaps, fondly hoped, would one day have restored her to the arms
of her Edward. With thee rested the knowledge of her retreat; and with
thee--it may have perished!"

The idea was too much: he sank on his knee by the grave--to Heaven his
heart was open.

"Oh God!" he cried, "immutable are thy decrees, nor can the proudest
knowledge of man explore the mystery of thy ways! Greatly against thee
have I offended, and just is the punishment thou hast inflicted: yet
still let mercy blend with thy power, nor crush the head thou hast
deigned to rear from the dust! Mine was the guilt; on me let thy
vengeance fall: but spare my Ellenor the anguish which swells my heart;
and if thy justice prohibit more, let me at least prove (however late
the date) a friend to her I deceived, a parent to the offspring of our
love!"

He bowed his head on his knee, and for some minutes continued in mental
supplication; till a sigh, responsive to that which burst from his own
bosom, aroused him, and, on raising his head, he beheld his nephew
within a few paces of the grave.

"The same reason, my dear uncle," said Frederick, advancing, "I find,
has separately brought us to this spot, that of taking a last farewell
of the ashes of our worthy young friend, before we bid adieu to this
part of England."

"Such was my intention," answered the Captain, "though remembrance at
the moment has hurried me into greater weakness."

"Regret it not," said Frederick, affectionately taking his hand.