Upon hearing of this arrangement Lady Juliana’s grief and despair, as usual, set all reason at defiance.  She would not suffer her dear, dear Harry to leave her.  She knew she could not live without him; she was sure she should die; and Harry would be sea sick, and grow so yellow and so ugly that when he came back she should never have any comfort in him again.

Henry, who had never doubted her readiness to accompany him, immediately hastened to assuage her anguish by assuring her that it had always been his intention to take her along with him.

That was worse and worse:  she wondered how he could be so barbarous and absurd as to think of her leaving all her friends and going to live amongst savages.  She had done a great deal in living so long contentedly with him in Scotland; but she never could nor would make such another sacrifice.  Besides, she was sure poor Courtland could not do without her; she knew he never would marry again; and who would take care of his dear children, and educate them properly, if she did not?  It would be too ungrateful to desert Frederick, after all he had done for them.

The pride of the man, as much as the affection of the husband, was irritated by this resistance to this will; and a violent scene of reproach and recrimination terminated in an eternal farewell.

CHAPTER XXIV.

    “In age, in infancy, from others’ aid
    Is all our hope; to teach us to be kind,
    That nature’s first, last lesson.”

YOUNG.

THE neglected daughter of Lady Juliana Douglas experienced all the advantages naturally to be expected from her change of situation.  Her watchful aunt superintended the years of her infancy, and all that a tender and judicious mother could do-all that most mothers think they do-she performed.  Mrs. Douglas, though not a woman either of words or systems, possessed a reflecting mind, and a heart warm with benevolence towards everything that had a being; and all the best feelings of her nature were excited by the little outcast thus abandoned by her unnatural parent.  As she pressed the unconscious babe to her bosom she thought how blest she should have been had a child of her own thus filled her arms; but the reflection called forth no selfish murmurs from her chastened spirit.  While the tear of soft regret trembled in her eye, that eye was yet raised in gratitude to Heaven for having called forth those delightful affections which might otherwise have slumbered in her heart.

Mrs. Douglas had read much, and reflected more, and many faultless theories of education had floated in her mind.  But her good sense soon discovered how unavailing all theories were whose foundations rested upon the inferred wisdom of the teacher, and how intricate and unwieldy must be the machinery for the human mind where the human hand alone is to guide and uphold it.  To engraft into her infant soul