yself to the
park, where all around are signs of a springing new life, and memories of
Sir Philip in every part, did these tears I speak of have their free way.
All things wakening into life, buds swelling on the stately trees he loved;
birds singing, for the time to pair is come; dew sparkling like the lustre
of precious stones on every twig and blade of grass, daisies with golden
eyes peeping up between. Life, life, everywhere quickening life, and he who
loved life, and to see good days, can walk no more in the old dear paths of
his home, which he trod with so graceful and alert a step, his smile like
the sunshine lying on the gate of the President's Court, under which he
that went out on the November morning in all the glory of his young
manhood, shall pass in no more for ever.

'As I thought of seeing him thus, with the light on his bright hair and
glistening armour, as he took his infant child in his arms and bade her
farewell, I wept, not bitter tears, but those God sends to us as a blessing
when the heart desires some ease of its burden.

'It may be that you will care to read what I have written to the boy
Ambrose. Bid him from me to remember his old desire to be such another
brave and goodly knight as Sir Philip Sidney, and strive to follow him in
all loyal service to his God, his Queen, and his kindred.

'I am thinking often, Mary, of your return to this country. Will it never
come to pass? You told me in your letter in which you gave me those
particulars of Sir Philip's death, that I should scarce believe that
Ambrose was the child I knew at the old home of Ford Place. And scarce will
you believe, when we meet, as meet I pray we shall, I am the same Lucy of
days past. Ever since that time of your grief and sickness, I have changed.
I look back with something which is akin to pity on the vain child who
thought fine clothes and array the likest to enhance the fair face and form
which maybe God has given me. Ay, Mary, I have learned better now. I should
have been a dullard, in sooth, had I not learned much in the companionship
graciously granted me by my honoured mistress. To be near her is an
education, and she has been pleased in many ways to instruct me, not only
in the needlecraft and tapestry work in which she excels, but also in
opening for me the gates of knowledge, and in rehearsing in my ear the
beautiful words of Scripture, and the Psalms in verse, as well as the poems
of Mr Spenser, and, chiefest of a