amiliar mother's voice--in his memory across the seas.

Once only it grew sharp, when Walter, who hovered about disconsolately,
knelt down to fasten his brother's portmanteau.

"No! Let go! I can do everything myself."

And now the time was fast flying--her boy must depart.

All the household collected in the hall to bid Mr. Guy good-bye--Mr.
Guy whom everybody was so fond of. They believed--which was all that
any one, save ourselves, ever knew--that sudden business had called him
away on a long and anxious journey. They lingered about him,
respectfully, with eager, honest blessings, such as it was good the lad
should have--good that he should bear away with him from England and
from home.

Finally, Guy, his father, and his mother went into the study by
themselves. Soon even his father came out and shut the door, that
there should be not a single witness to the last few words between
mother and son. These being over, they both came into the hall
together, brave and calm--which calmness was maintained even to the
last good-bye.

Thus we sent our Guy away, cheerfully and with blessings--away into the
wide, dangerous world; alone, with no guard or restraint, except (and
in that EXCEPT lay the whole mystery of our cheerfulness)--the fear of
God, his father's counsels, and his mother's prayers.

CHAPTER XXXV

Two years rolled over Beechwood--two uneventful years. The last of the
children ceased to be a child; and we prepared for that great era in
all household history, the first marriage in the family. It was to be
celebrated very quietly, as Edwin and Louise both desired. Time had
healed over many a pang, and taught many a soothing lesson; still it
could not be supposed that this marriage was without its painfulness.

Guy still remained abroad; his going had produced the happy result
intended. Month after month his letters came, each more hopeful than
the last, each bringing balm to the mother's heart. Then he wrote to
others beside his mother: Maud and Walter replied to him in long
home-histories; and began to talk without hesitation--nay, with great
pride and pleasure--"of my brother who is abroad."

The family wound was closing, the family peace about to be restored;
Maud even fancied Guy ought to come home to "our wedding;"--but then
she had never been told the whole of past circumstances; and, besides,
she was still too young to understand love matters. Yet so mercifully
had time smoothed do