re,' said Sir Ratcliffe to Glastonbury. 'Ah!
my dear Glastonbury, you know not what happiness I experience in the
thought that she will soon be my daughter.'

Glastonbury could not refrain from sighing. He took up the pencil and
touched her drawing.

'Do you know, dear Glastonbury,' resumed Sir Ratcliffe, 'I had little
hope in our late visitation. I cannot say I had prepared myself for
the worst, but I anticipated it. We have had so much unhappiness in our
family, that I could not persuade myself that the cup was not going to
be dashed from our lips.'

'God is merciful,' said Glastonbury.

'You are his minister, dear Glastonbury, and a worthy one. I know not
what we should have done without you in this awful trial; but, indeed,
what could I have done throughout life without you?'

'Let us hope that everything is for the best,' said Glastonbury.

'And his mother, his poor mother, what would have become of her? She
never could have survived his loss. As for myself, I would have quitted
England for ever, and gone into a monastery.'

'Let us only remember that he lives,' said Glastonbury.

'And that we shall soon all be happy,' said Sir Ratcliffe, in a more
animated tone. 'The future is, indeed, full of solace. But we must take
care of him; he is too rapid in his movements. He has my father's blood
in him, that is clear. I never could well make out why he left Bath so
suddenly, and rushed down in so strange a manner to this place.'

'Youth is impetuous,' said Glastonbury.

'It was lucky you were here, Glastonbury.'

'I thank God that I was,' said Glastonbury, earnestly; then checking
himself, he added, 'that I have been of any use.'

'You are always of use. What should we do without you? I should long ago
have sunk. Ah! Glastonbury, God in his mercy sent you to us.'

'See here,' said Katherine, entering, her fair cheek glowing with
animation, 'only dahlias, but they will look pretty, and enliven his
room. Oh! that I might write him a little word, and tell him I am here!
Do not you think I might, Mr. Glastonbury?'

'He will know that you are here to-day,' said Glastonbury.
'To-morrow-----'

'Ah! you always postpone it,' said Miss Grandison, in a tone half
playful, half reproachful; 'and yet it is selfish to murmur. It is for
his good that I bear this bereavement, and that thought should console
me. Heigho!'

Sir Ratcliffe stepped forward and kissed his niece. Glastonbury was
busied on the drawing: he turn