of a
learned and intellectual man. How I knew this it is impossible to say,
for I never had met with such a character as this, unless it were the
Abbe of Flechon, when I was only fourteen years old, and valued his
great skill in spinning a top tenfold more than all his deep learning.
Lord Castlewood had long, silky hair, falling in curls of silver gray
upon either side of his beautiful forehead, and the gaze of his soft
dark eyes was sad, gentle, yet penetrating. Weak health and almost
constant pain had chastened his delicate features to an expression
almost feminine, though firm thin lips and rigid lines showed masculine
will and fortitude. And when he spoke of his own trouble (which,
perhaps, he would not have done except for consolation's sake), I knew
that he meant something even more grievous than bodily anguish.

"It is hard," he said, "that you, so young and healthy and full of high
spirit as you are (unless your face belies you), should begin the best
years of your life, as common opinion puts such things, in such a cloud
of gloom and shame."

"There is no shame at all," I answered; "and if there is gloom, I am
used to that; and so was my father for years and years. What is my
trouble compared with his?"

"Your trouble is nothing when compared with his, so far as regards the
mere weight of it; but he was a strong man to carry his load; you are a
young and a sensitive woman. The burden may even be worse for you. Now
tell me all about yourself, and what has brought you to me."

His voice was so quiet and soothing that I seemed to rest beneath it. He
had not spoken once of religion or the will of God, nor plied me at all
with those pious allusions, which even to the reverent mind are like
illusions when so urged. Lord Castlewood had too deep a sense of the
will of God to know what it is; and he looked at me wistfully as at one
who might have worse experience of it.

Falling happily under his influence, as his clear, kind eyes met mine,
I told him every thing I could think of about my father and myself, and
all I wanted to do next, and how my heart and soul were set upon
getting to the bottom of every thing. And while I spoke with spirit, or
softness, or, I fear, sometimes with hate, I could not help seeing that
he was surprised, but not wholly displeased, with my energy. And then,
when all was exhausted, came the old question I had heard so often, and
found so hard to answer--

"And what do you propose to do