evotedness which neither father nor mother forbade,
believing that a woman cannot too soon learn womanhood's best
"mission"--usefulness, tenderness, and charity. Miss Halifax was
certain that a few minutes before the last minute, she saw a gleam of
sense in the filmy eyes, and stooping down, had caught some feeble
murmur about "William--poor William!"

She did not tell me this; she spoke of it to no one but her mother, and
to her briefly. So the wretched life, once beautiful and loveful, was
now ended, or perhaps born in some new sphere to begin again its
struggle after the highest beauty, the only perfect love. What are we
that we should place limits to the infinite mercy of the Lord and Giver
of Life, unto whom all life returns?

We buried her and left her--poor Lady Caroline!

No one interfered with us, and we appealed to no one. In truth, there
was no one unto whom we could appeal. Lord Luxmore, immediately after
his father's funeral, had disappeared, whither, no one knew except his
solicitor; who treated with and entirely satisfied the host of
creditors, and into whose hands the sole debtor, John Halifax, paid his
yearly rent. Therewith, he wrote several times to Lord Luxmore; but
the letters were simply acknowledged through the lawyer: never
answered. Whether in any of them John alluded to Lady Caroline I do
not know; but I rather think not, as it would have served no purpose
and only inflicted pain. No doubt, her brother had long since believed
her dead, as we and the world had done.

In that same world one man, even a nobleman, is of little account. Lord
Ravenel sank in its wide waste of waters, and they closed over him.
Whether he were drowned or saved was of small moment to any one. He
was soon forgotten--everywhere except at Beechwood; and sometimes it
seemed as if he were even forgotten there. Save that in our family we
found it hard to learn this easy, convenient habit--to forget.

Hard, though seven years had passed since we saw Guy's merry face, to
avoid missing it keenly still. The mother, as her years crept on,
oftentimes wearied for him with a yearning that could not be told. The
father, as Edwin became engrossed in his own affairs, and Walter's
undecided temperament kept him a boy long after boyhood, often seemed
to look round vaguely for an eldest son's young strength to lean upon,
often said anxiously, "I wish Guy were at home."

Yet still there was no hint of his coming; better he