commands upon her son, whose temper she knew; but for the sake
of Miss Lambert's own reputation and comfort, she urged that the
dissolution of the engagement should come from her family, and not from
the just unwillingness of Rachel Esmond Warrington of Virginia.

"God help us, George!" the General said, "and give us all strength to
bear this grief, and these charges which it has pleased your mother
to bring! They are hard, but they don't matter now. What is of most
importance, is to spare as much sorrow as we can to my poor girl. I know
you love her so well, that you will help me and her mother to make the
blow as tolerable as we may to that poor gentle heart. Since she was
born she has never given pain to a soul alive, and 'tis cruel that she
should be made to suffer." And as he spoke he passed his hand across his
dry eyes.

"It was my fault, Martin! It was my fault!" weeps the poor mother.

"Your mother spoke us fair, and gave her promise," said the father.

"And do you think I will withdraw mine?" cried I; and protested, with
a thousand frantic vows, what they knew full well, that I was bound to
Theo before Heaven, and that nothing should part me from her."

"She herself will demand the parting. She is a good girl, God help me!
and a dutiful. She will not have her father and mother called schemers,
and treated with scorn. Your mother knew not, very likely, what she was
doing, but 'tis done. You may see the child, and she will tell you as
much. Is Theo dressed, Molly? I brought the letter home from my office
last evening after you were gone. The women have had a bad night. She
knew at once by my face that there was bad news from America. She read
the letter quite firmly. She said she would like to see you and say
good-bye. Of course, George, you will give me your word of honour not to
try and see her afterwards. As soon as my business will let me we will
get away from this, but mother and I think we are best all together.
'Tis you, perhaps, had best go. But give me your word, at any rate, that
you will not try and see her. We must spare her pain, sir! We must spare
her pain!" And the good man sate down in such deep anguish himself that
I, who was not yet under the full pressure of my own grief, actually
felt his, and pitied it. It could not be that the dear lips I had kissed
yesterday were to speak to me only once more. We were all here together;
loving each other, sitting in the room where we met every day; my