The Sea-flower had rested her head upon her hand, and while her mother had been engaged with Harry, a silent spectator might have wondered to what unseen object those deep oases of love were imparting their purity.  The words of Harry had fallen upon her ear,—­“I shall see what old Ocean is made of;” shall we follow in the train of her musings? they will lead us not where the fallen tread.  On the banks of the still waters of peace, ’neath the willows, whose tears are of innocence, frisk the tender lambs, who taste only of the sweets of the green pasture:—­“I shall see what old ocean is made of.”  Far away in coral dells, where the nymphs of ocean tune their harps in praise to Nature’s God, the Sea-flower loves to ramble, as if she had been a child in time long past, and the mysteries of ocean were that childhood’s home.  Ah, loved one, thou dost not pause to find what ’tis which makes thy heart to beat in unison with the murmuring of the waters! perchance those restless billows are but the echoings of thy soul’s desire to breathe that upper air, and breathing, gasp for more, ’Tis not for us to tell thee that bright ones came down, and bore the spirit of her who gave thee life, to that better land, from hence; nor of the dying prayer, “Lord, keep my child,” which was caught up by each listening billow, and the supplication, e’er since renewed by the voices of the deep.

Why Mrs. Grosvenor had spoken thus, upon this evening to her son, she could not tell; she felt there was some irresistible power which bade her speak that charge,—­“never lose sight of your early instructions, and the prayers of your mother.”  As she retired early for the night, feeling slightly indisposed, she met the gaze of Harry, which was fixed upon her, attributing its uncommon earnestness to a determination on his part to cherish her words.  And he never did forget them But, ah! fond mother, sleep on, take thy rest, and gain strength for the morrow’s rising, for thou knowest not of the cup of sorrow which is being prepared for thee.

As Harry sat watching the bright flames as they went crackling up the chimney, his sister came and rested her head upon his shoulder, where they remained, until Sea-flower, reminding him of the lateness of the hour, was about to retire, when her brother threw his arm about her, begging her to remain a little, for, said he, “I shall not always have my dear sister to comfort me.”

“To comfort you!  Harry, do you, who are always so light-hearted and joyous, need comforting?”

“Ah, pussy, but you can make the happiest heart happier.  I was thinking of mother; it is a comfort to me that she has you, Sea-flower, to cheer her lonely hours.”

“I think mother is less sad than she has been, for now she is looking forward to the time when father shall come home; and I think she flatters herself that she can dissuade you from going to sea, and then we shall be an unbroken, happy family once more.”