candle, and placing
it in Leonard's hand, "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 give 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. Good night--I must get your poor
father to bed."

When Leonard opened his eyes the next morning, they rested on the face
of Mrs. Avenel, which was bending over his pillow. But it was long
before he could recognize that countenance, so changed was its
expression--so tender, so motherlike. Nay, the face of his own mother
had never seemed to him so soft with a mother's passion.

"Ah!" he murmured, half rising and flinging his young arms round her
neck. Mrs. Avenel, this time, and for the first, taken by surprise,
warmly returned the embrace; she clasped him to her breast, she kissed
him again and again. At length with a quick start she escaped, and
walked up and down the room, pressing her hands tightly together. When
she halted, her face had recovered its usual severity and cold
precision.

"It is time for you to rise, Leonard," said she. "You will leave us
to-day. A gentleman has promised to take charge of you, and do for you
more than we can. A chaise will be at the door soon--make haste."

John was absent from the breakfast-table. His wife said that he never
rose till late, and must not be disturbed.

Th