e fear that although he may still live, as unquestionably Corbet
on his death-bed had assured me, yet it is possible we may never recover
him. In that case he is dead to me--lost forever."

"I will not attempt to offer your ladyship consolation," replied the
stranger; "but I would suggest simply, that the dying words of your
steward, perhaps, may be looked upon as the first opening--the dawn of a
hopeful issue. I think we may fairly and reasonably calculate that your
son lives. Take courage, madam. In our efforts to trace him, remember
that we have only commenced operations. Every day and every successive
attempt to penetrate this painful mystery will, I trust, furnish us with
additional materials for success."

"May God grant it!" replied her ladyship; "for if we fail, my wounds
will have been again torn open in vain. Better a thousand times that
that hope had never reached me."

"True, indeed, madam," replied the stranger; "but still take what
comfort you can. Think of your brother-in-law; he also has lost his
child, and bears it well."

"Ah, yes," she replied, "but you forget that he has one still left,
and that I am childless. If there be a solitary being on earth, it is a
childless and a widowed mother--a widow who has known a mother's love--a
wife who has experienced the tender and manly affection of a devoted
husband."

"I grant," he replied, "that it is, indeed, a bitter fate."

"As for my brother-in-law," she proceeded, "the child which God, in his
love, has spared to him is a compensation almost for any loss. I trust
he loves and cherishes her as he ought, and as I am told she deserves.
There has been no communication between us ever since my marriage.
Edward and he, though brothers, were as different as day and night.
Unless once or twice, I never even saw my niece, and only then at a
distance; nor has a word ever passed between us. They tell me she is an
angel in goodness, as well as in beauty, and that her accomplishments
are extraordinary--but--I, alas!--am alone and childless."

The stranger's heart palpitated; and had Lady Gourlay entertained any
suspicion of his attachment, she might have perceived his agitation. He
also felt deep sympathy with Lady Gourlay.

"Do not say childless, madam," he replied. "Your ladyship must hope for
the best."

"But what have you done?" she asked. "Did you see the young man?"

"I saw him, madam; but it is impossible to get anything out of him. That
he is wrappe