only daughter
of Lieutenant-General Sir Christopher Charteris
She died November the 18th 1837
Aged 29 years.

_____

Mary Caroline
her daughter
Born November 11th 1837
Died April 14th 1838
I shall go to them, but they shall not return to me.

How like it was to poor Owen! that necessity of expression, and the
visible presage of weakening health so surely fulfilled! And his
Lucilla! It was a melancholy work to have brought home a missionary, and
secularized a parish priest! 'Not a generous reflection,' thought
Honora, 'at a rival's grave,' and she turned to the boy, who had stooped
to pull at some of the bits of groundsel.

'Shall we come here in the early morning, and set it to rights?'

'I forgot it was Sunday,' said Owen, hastily throwing down the weed he
had plucked up.

'You were doing no harm, my dear; but we will not leave it in this state.
Will you come with us, Lucy?'

Lucilla had escaped, and was standing aloof at the end of the path, and
when her brother went towards her, she turned away.

'Come, Lucy,' he entreated, 'come into the garden with us. We want you
to tell us the old places.'

'I'm not coming,' was all her answer, and she ran back to the party who
stood by the church door, and began to chatter to Mr. Prendergast, over
whom she had domineered even before she could speak plain. A silent, shy
man, wrapped up in his duties, he was mortally afraid of the Castle
Blanch young ladies, and stood ill at ease, talked down by Miss Horatia
Charteris, but his eye lighted into a smile as the fairy plaything of
past years danced up to him, and began her merry chatter, asking after
every one in the parish, and showing a perfect memory of names and faces
such as amazed him, in a child so young as she had been at the time when
she had left the parish. Honora and Owen meantime were retracing
recollections in the rectory garden, eking out the boy's four years old
memories with imaginations and moralizings, pondering over the border
whence Owen declared he had gathered snowdrops for his mother's coffin;
and the noble plane tree by the water-side, sacred to the memory of Bible
stories told by his father in the summer evenings--

'That tree!' laughed Lucilla, when he told her that night