, only murmuring
to herself--

"O God! teach me to endure!"

CHAPTER XIV.

"What is the matter with the child to-day?" said Captain Rothesay to his
wife, with whom, oh rare circumstance! he was sitting _tete-a-tete_.
But this, and a few other alterations for the better had taken place
in consequence of his longer stay at home than usual, during which an
unseen influence had been busily at work. Poor Olive! Was it not well
for her, that, to temper the first shock of her bitter destiny, there
should arise, in the dreary blank of the future, duties so holy, that
they stood almost in the place of joys?

"How dull the girl seems!" again observed Captain Rothesay, looking
after his daughter, with a tenderness of which he afterwards appeared
rather ashamed.

"Dull, is she?" said the mother; "oh, very likely poor child! She is
grieving to lose her chief friend and companion, Miss Derwent. News came
to her this morning that Sara is about to be married."

"Oh, indeed!" and Captain Rothesay made an attempt at departure. He
hated gossiping, even of the most harmless kind. But his wife, pleased
that he condescended to talk to her at all, tried to amuse him in her
own easy way.

"Poor Sara! I am glad that she is going to have a home of her
own--though she is young enough to marry. But I believe it was a very
sudden affair; and the gentleman fell so desperately in love with her."

"More fool he!" muttered Captain Rothesay.

"Nay, he is not a fool at all; he is a very sensible, clever man, and a
clergyman too; Miss Derwent said so in her brief note to Olive. But she
did not mention where he lived; little indeed she told, but that his
name was Gwynne"----

Captain Rothesay turned round quickly.

--"And Sara speaks of his mother being a stiff old Scotswoman. Ah, you
are listening now, my dear. Let me see, I think Miss Derwent mentions
her maiden name. The silly girl makes quite a boast of her lover's
ancient family, on the maternal side."

"There is no silliness in that, I hope, Mrs. Rothesay?"

"Certainly not--was I not always proud of yours?" said the wife, with a
meekness not newly learnt She hunted in her reticule for Sara's letter,
and read.

"Ah, here is the name--Alison Balfour: do you know it?"

"I did once, when I was a boy."

"Stay! do not go away in that hasty manner. Pray, talk to me a little
more, Angus; it is so dull to be confined to this sick-room. Tell me of
this Alison Balfour; you know I sho