manners which, in their natural grace
and sweetness, might have shed lustre on a court. All that he could
himself do was to show by his own manner to Mrs Kenrick the affection
and respect with which he regarded her. When he hinted to Kenrick, as
delicately and distantly as he could, that he thought his manner to his
mother rather brusque, Kenrick reddened rather angrily, but only
replied, "Ah, it's all very well for you to talk; but you don't live at
Fuzby."

"Yet I've enjoyed my visit very much, Ken; you can't think how much I
love your mother."

"Thank you, Walter, for saying so. But how would you like to _live
always_ at such a place?"

"If I did I should do my best to make it happy."

"Make it _happy_!" said Kenrick; and as he turned away he muttered
something about making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Soon after he
told Walter some of those circumstances about his father's life which we
have recently related. When the three days were over the boys started
for Saint Winifred's. They drove to the station in the pony-chaise
before described, accompanied, against Kenrick's will, by his mother.
She bore up bravely as she bade them good-bye, knowing the
undemonstrative character of boys, and seeing that they were both in the
merriest mood. She knew, too, that their gaiety was natural: the world
lay before _them_, bright and seductive as yet, with no shadow across
its light; nor was she all in all to Harry as he was to her. He had
other hopes, and another home, and other ties; and remembering this she
tried not to grieve that he should leave her with so light a heart. But
as she turned away from the platform when the train had started, taking
with it all that she held dearest in the world, and as she walked back
to the lonely home which had nothing but faith--for there was not even
hope--to brighten it, the quiet tears flowed fast over the fair face
beneath her veil. Yet as she crossed over her lonely threshold her
thoughts were not even then for herself, but they carried her on the
wings of prayer to the throne of mercy for the beloved boy from whom she
was again to be separated for nearly five long months.

The widowed mother wept; but the boy's spirits rose as he drew closer to
the hills and to the sea, which told him that Saint Winifred's was near.
He talked happily with Walter about the coming half--eager with
ambition, with hope, with high spirits, and fine resolutions. He
clapped his hands with