udent, Leonard took down one or two of the volumes still left on the
shelves. He found Spenser's "Faerie Queene," Racine in French, Tasso
in Italian; and on the fly-leaf of each volume, in the exquisite
handwriting familiar to his memory, the name "Leonora." He kissed the
books, and replaced them with a feeling akin both to tenderness and awe.

He had not been alone in his room more than a quarter of an hour before
the maid-servant knocked at his door and summoned him to tea.

Poor John had recovered his spirits, and his wife sat by his side,
holding his hand in hers. Poor John was even gay. He asked many
questions about his daughter Jane, and did not wait for the answers.
Then he spoke about the squire, whom he confounded with Audley Egerton,
and talked of elections and the Blue party, and hoped Leonard would
always be a good Blue; and then he fell to his tea and toast, and said
no more.

Mrs. Avenel spoke little, but she eyed Leonard askant, as it were, from
time to time; and, after each glance, the nerves of the poor severe face
twitched again.

A little after nine o'clock, Mrs. Avenel lighted a candle, and placing
it in Leonard's hand, said, "You must be tired,--you know your own room
now. Good-night."

Leonard took the light, and, as was his wont with his mother, kissed
Mrs. Avenel on the cheek. Then he took John's hand and kissed him too.
The old man was half asleep, and murmured dreamily, "That's Nora."

Leonard had retired to his room about half an hour, when Richard Avenel
entered the house softly, and joined his parents.

"Well, Mother?" said he.

"Well, Richard, you have seen him?"

"And like him. Do you know he has a great look of poor Nora?--more like
her than Jane."

"Yes; he is handsomer than Jane ever was, but more like your father than
any one. John was so comely. You take to the boy, then?"

"Ay, that I do. Just tell him in the morning that he is to go with a
gentleman who will be his friend, and don't say more. The chaise shall
be at the door after breakfast. Let him get into it: I shall wait for
him out of the town. What's the room you gave him?"

"The room you would not take."

"The room in which Nora slept? Oh, no! I could not have slept a wink
there. What a charm there was in that girl! how we all loved her! But
she was too beautiful and good for us,--too good to live!"

"None of us are too good," said Mrs. Avenel, with great austerity, "and
I beg you will not talk in that way. Go