Mrs. Lennox answered in the affirmative; then added, with a sigh, “And when I could look on that face, I forgot all I had lost; but I was too fond, too proud a mother.  Look at it, my dear,” taking Mary’s hand, and leading her to the well-known spot, while her features brightened with an expression which showed maternal vanity was not yet extinct in the mourner’s heart.  “He was only eighteen,” continued she, “when that was done; and many a hot sun has burned on that fair brow; and many a fearful sight has met these sweet eyes since then; and sadly that face may be changed; but I shall never see it more!”

“Indeed,” said Lady Emily, affecting to be gay, while a tear stood in her eye, “it is a very dangerous face to look on; and I should be afraid to trust myself with it, were not my heart already pledged.  As for my cousin there, there is no fear of her falling a sacrifice to hazel eyes and chestnut hair, her imagination is all on the side of sandy locks and frosty gray eyes; and I should doubt if Cupid himself would have any chance with her, unless he appeared in tartan plaid and Highland bonnet.”

“Then my Charles would have some,” said Mrs. Lennox, with a faint smile; “for he has lately been promoted to the command of a Highland regiment.”

“Indeed!” said Lady Emily, “that is very gratifying, and you have reason to be proud of Colonel Lennox; he has distinguished himself upon every occasion.”

“Ah! the days of my pride are now past,” replied Mrs. Lennox, with a sigh; “’tis only the more honour, the greater danger, and I am weary of such bloody honours.  See there!” pointing to another part of the room, where hung a group of five lovely children, “three of these cherub heads were laid low in battle; the fourth, my Louisa, died of a broken heart for the loss of her brothers.  Oh! what can human power or earthly honours do to cheer the mother who has wept o’er her children’s graves?  But there is a Power,” raising her darkened eyes to heaven, “that can sustain even a mother’s heart; and here,” laying her hand upon an open Bible, “is the balm He has graciously vouchsafed to pour into the wounded spirit.  My comfort is not that my boys died nobly, but that they died Christians.”

Lady Emily and Mary were both silent from different causes.  The former was at a loss what to say—­the latter felt too much affected to trust her voice with the words of sympathy that hovered on her lips.

“I ought to beg your pardon, my dears,” said Mrs. Lennox, after a pause, for talking in this serious manner to you who cannot be supposed to enter into sorrows to which you are strangers.  But you must excuse me, though my heart does sometimes run over.”

“Oh, do not suppose,” said Mary, making an effort to conquer her feelings, “that we are so heartless as to refuse to take a part in the afflictions of others; surely none can be so selfish; and might I be allowed to come often—­very often—­” She stopped and blushed; for she felt that her feelings were carrying her farther than she was warranted to go.