There were many dear friends whom we must not leave behind, humble though they were.  There was the spirited and obedient steed which Lord Raymond had given his daughter; there was Alfred’s dog and a pet eagle, whose sight was dimmed through age.  But this catalogue of favourites to be taken with us, could not be made without grief to think of our heavy losses, and a deep sigh for the many things we must leave behind.  The tears rushed into the eyes of Idris, while Alfred and Evelyn brought now a favourite rose tree, now a marble vase beautifully carved, insisting that these must go, and exclaiming on the pity that we could not take the castle and the forest, the deer and the birds, and all accustomed and cherished objects along with us.  “Fond and foolish ones,” I said, “we have lost for ever treasures far more precious than these; and we desert them, to preserve treasures to which in comparison they are nothing.  Let us not for a moment forget our object and our hope; and they will form a resistless mound to stop the overflowing of our regret for trifles.”

The children were easily distracted, and again returned to their prospect of future amusement.  Idris had disappeared.  She had gone to hide her weakness; escaping from the castle, she had descended to the little park, and sought solitude, that she might there indulge her tears; I found her clinging round an old oak, pressing its rough trunk with her roseate lips, as her tears fell plenteously, and her sobs and broken exclamations could not be suppressed; with surpassing grief I beheld this loved one of my heart thus lost in sorrow!  I drew her towards me; and, as she felt my kisses on her eyelids, as she felt my arms press her, she revived to the knowledge of what remained to her.  “You are very kind not to reproach me,” she said:  “I weep, and a bitter pang of intolerable sorrow tears my heart.  And yet I am happy; mothers lament their children, wives lose their husbands, while you and my children are left to me.  Yes, I am happy, most happy, that I can weep thus for imaginary sorrows, and that the slight loss of my adored country is not dwindled and annihilated in mightier misery.  Take me where you will; where you and my children are, there shall be Windsor, and every country will be England to me.  Let these tears flow not for myself, happy and ungrateful as I am, but for the dead world—­for our lost country—­for all of love, and life, and joy, now choked in the dusty chambers of death.”

She spoke quickly, as if to convince herself; she turned her eyes from the trees and forest-paths she loved; she hid her face in my bosom, and we—­ yes, my masculine firmness dissolved—­we wept together consolatory tears, and then calm—­nay, almost cheerful, we returned to the castle.