lthough
seventeen years old, and fast advancing to manhood, did not disdain to
mingle his tears with those of his former playmate. It was some time
before he could persuade Amber, who clung to him in her grief, to any
degree of serenity.

"Amber, dear, you must come to us at the Hall; this is no place for you
now."

"And why not, William? Why should I leave so soon? I'm not afraid of
being here, or lying by his side alone: I've seen other people die. I
saw Mrs Beazeley die--I saw poor Faithful die; and now, they _all_ are
dead," said Amber, bursting into tears, and burying her face in William
Aveleyn's bosom. "I knew that he was to die," said she, raising her
head after a time--"he told me so; but, to think that I shall never hear
him speak again--that very soon I shall never see him more--I must cry,
William."

"But your father is happy, Amber."

"_He_ is happy, I know; but he was not my father, William. I have no
father--no friend on earth I know of. He told me all before he died;
Faithful brought me from the sea."

This intelligence roused the curiosity of William Aveleyn, who
interrogated Amber, and obtained from her the whole of the particulars
communicated by Edward Forster; and, as she answered to his many
questions, she grew more composed.

The narrative had scarcely been finished, when Lord Aveleyn, who had
been summoned by Robinson, drove to the door, accompanied by Lady
Aveleyn, who thought that her presence and persuasions would more
readily induce Amber to heave the cottage. Convinced by her of the
propriety of the proposal, Amber was put into the carriage without
resistance, and conveyed to the Hall, where every thing that kindness
and sympathy could suggest was resorted to, to assuage her grief. There
we must leave her, and repair to the metropolis.

"Scratton," said Mr John Forster to his clerk, who had answered the
bell, "recollect I cannot see any one to-day."

"You have several appointments, sir," replied the clerk.

"Then send, and put them all off."

"Yes, sir; and if any one calls, I am to say that you are not at home?"

"No, I am at home; why tell a lie? but I cannot see any body."

The clerk shut the door; John Forster put on his spectacles to reperuse
the letter which lay before him. It was the one from Edward, inclosed
in a frank by Lord Aveleyn, with a few lines, announcing his brother's
death, and stating that Amber was at the Hall, where they should be glad
that she