de Alley place it where she had ever kept it--next her
heart.

"Alice," said she, "I trust I will soon be with mamma."

"My dear mistress," replied Alice, "don't spake so. I hope there's many
a happy and pleasant day before you, in spite of all that has come and
gone, yet."

She turned upon the maid a look of incredulity so hopeless, that Alley
felt both alarmed and depressed.

"You do not know what I suffer, Alice," she replied, "but I know it.
This miniature of mamma I got painted unknown to--unknown to--" (here
we need not say that she meant her father) "--any one except mamma, the
artist, and myself. It has laid next my heart ever since; but since
her death it has been the dearest thing to me on earth--one only other
object perhaps excepted. Yes," she added, with a deep sigh, "I hope I
shall soon be with you, mamma, and then we shall never be separated any
more!"

Alley regretted to perceive that her grief now had settled down into
the most wasting and dangerous of all; for it was of that dry and silent
kind which so soon consumes the lamp of life, and dries up the strength
of those who unhappily fall under its malignant blight.

Lucy's journey, however, from Wicklow, the two interviews with her
father, the sacrifice she had so nobly made, and the consequent
agitation, all overcame her, and after a painful struggle between the
alternations of forgetfulness and memory, she at length fell into a
troubled slumber.

CHAPTER XXIX. Lord Dunroe's Affection for his Father

--Glimpse of a new Character--Lord Gullamore's Rebuke to his Son, who
greatly refuses to give up his Friend.

A considerable period now elapsed, during which there was little done
that could contribute to the progress of our narrative. Summer had set
in, and the Cullamore family, owing to the failing health of the old
nobleman, had returned to his Dublin residence, with an intention
of removing to Glenshee, as soon he should receive the advice of his
physician. From the day on which his brother's letter reached him, his
lordship seemed to fall into a more than ordinary despondency of mind.
His health for years had been very infirm, but from whatsoever cause it
proceeded, he now appeared to labor under some secret presentiment of
calamity, against which he struggled in vain. So at least he himself
admitted. It is true that age and a constitution enfeebled by delicate
health might alone, in a disposition naturally hypochondriac, occasion