has hitherto befallen me; but attempt not my retreat, it must yet
be sacred!

"Seek not to know more of his history than he freely communicates:
and love him, my Edward, for he is worthy of your richest regard.
You must hereafter clear the mysteries in which he is
involved--from him it is, you must receive your son, and--Ellenor."

"But he has denied your boon, my Ellenor!" said the Captain.
"Shame--shame to him for it! Yet it is not too late: seek Sir Henry
immediately: my life were little in recompence for friendship shown to
my Ellenor!"

Sir Henry, however, was gone!--The moment he left the letter, he sprang
into a boat which was putting off for the shore; nor with the strictest
search and inquiry could they trace the way he had taken. For three days
the Captain experienced the torture of suspense, when he received
intelligence, that the corpse of a youth, answering the description of
Sir Henry, had been washed on shore about two miles from Lowestoff.
Alarmed by this account, he went to the cottage where it had been
conveyed, accompanied by his nephew and Mr. Talton; and where their
fears were fully confirmed, by the people producing the clothes, and a
watch the Captain had himself presented to the unfortunate Sir Henry:
who, they informed him, had that morning been interred.

A tear fell on the cheek of the Captain as he resigned the hope so
lately raised, of hearing of--and seeing his Ellenor; accompanied by one
for the unhappy fate of his favourite St. Ledger: nor did the severity
of Mr. Talton refuse the tribute of a sigh: the faults of Sir Henry sunk
beneath the sod which encircled him, and left to his remembrance only
the youth he regarded for the sake of his mother.

With his mind deeply depressed, the Captain returned on board; long had
he experienced unhappiness, but the events of the last week had struck
the shaft still deeper in his heart; nor could the friendship of Mr.
Talton, or the affection of Frederick, preserve him from a corroding
melancholy.

The death of Sir Henry, as St. Ledger, was universally regretted; even
the obdurate Harland, for a moment, forgot his enmity, and expressed a
sentiment of pity; whilst the generous Frederick, who had regarded him
with fraternal friendship, paid that tribute to his memory his merits
demanded; and whilst he dwelt with praises on the name of his friend,
the faltering accent and half-suppressed sigh evinced the sincerity of
hi