n which he said
he wished to make, till I saw Richard depart. Then it recurred to me;
but it did not seem possible that it could interest or affect me much,
though it might my brother.

I have not spoken of Mrs. Brahan's children, because I have had so much
to say of others; but she had children, and very lovely ones, who were
the crowning blessings of her home. Her eldest were at school, but there
were three inmates of the nursery, from five to ten years of age,
adorned with the sweetest charms of childhood, brightness, purity, and
bloom. She called them playfully her three little graces; and I never
admired her so much, as when she made herself a child in their midst,
and participated in their innocent amusements. After supper they were
brought into the parlor to be companions of their father one hour, which
he devoted exclusively to their instruction and recreation; but after
dinner Mrs. Brahan took the place of the nurse, or rather governess, and
I felt it a privilege to be with her, it made me feel so entirely at
home, and the presence of childhood freshened and enlivened the spirits.
It seemed as if fairy fingers were scattering rose-leaves on my heart.
Was it possible that these young, innocent creatures would ever become
hardened by worldliness, polluted by sin, or saddened by sorrow? And yet
the doomed dweller of the Tombs had said that morning, "that he was once
a praying child at his mother's knee!" How would that mother have felt,
if, when his innocent hands were folded on her lap and his cherub lips
repeated words which perhaps angels interpreted, she could have looked
into future years, and beheld the condemned and blasted being in whose
withering veins her own lifeblood was flowing?

While I was reclining on the children's bed and the youngest little girl
was playing with my ringlets, as short and childish as her own, I was
told a gentleman was in the parlor, who inquired for me.

"Cannot I excuse myself?" I asked of Mrs. Brahan. "I did not wish any
one to know that I was in the city. I did not wish to meet any of my
former acquaintances."

Then it suddenly flashed into my mind, that it might be some one who
brought tidings of Ernest, some one who had met the "Star of the East,"
on his homeward voyage. There was nothing wild in the idea, and when I
mentioned it to Mrs. Brahan, she said it was possible, and that I had
better go down. Supposing it was a messenger of evil! I felt as if I had
borne all I