ank you, madam," said Lord Aveleyn, taking the paper from her hand,
and opening it--"'Louisa Manners.' Well, then, Louisa Manners it shall be;
always provided that she does not refuse me. I will make my first advances
this very afternoon--that is, if it does not clear up, and I can take out
the pointers."

"You surely are joking, Frank?"

"Never was more serious. I have my mother's recommendation, backed by
fate. Marry I must, but choose I will not. I feel myself desperately in
love with the fair Louisa already. I will report my progress to you, my
dear madam, in less than a fortnight."

Lord Aveleyn adhered to his singular resolution, courted, and was
accepted. He never had reason to repent his choice; who proved to be as
amiable as her countenance would have indicated. The fruits of his
marriage was one son, who was watched over with mingled pride and
anxiety, and who had now arrived at the age of fifteen years.

Such was the history of Lord Avelyn, who continued to extend his
friendship to Edward Forster, and, if he had required it, would gladly
have proffered his assistance, in return for the kindness which Forster
had shown towards him when he was a midshipman. The circumstances
connected with the history of the little Amber were known to Lord
Aveleyn and his lady; and the wish of Forster, that his little charge
should derive the advantage of mixing in good female society, was gladly
acceded to, both on his account and on her own. Amber would often remain
for days at the mansion, and was a general favourite, as well as an
object of sympathy.

But the growth of their son, too rapid for his years, and which brought
with it symptoms of pulmonary disease, alarmed Lord and Lady Aveleyn;
and, by the advice of the physicians, they broke up their establishment,
and hastened with him to Madeira, to re-establish his health. Their
departure was deeply felt both by Forster and his charge; and before
they could recover from the loss, another severe trial awaited them in
the death of Mrs Beazely, who, full of years and rheumatism, was
gathered to her fathers. Forster, habituated as he was to the old lady,
felt her loss severely: he was now with Amber, quite alone; and it so
happened that in the following winter his wound broke out, and confined
him to his bed until the spring.

As he lay in a precarious state, the thought naturally occurred to him,
"What will become of this poor child if I am called away? There is not
the