k if London contains nothing which
you will commission me to obtain for you?"

The Countess again raised her eyes from her work. "I am greatly obliged
to you, my dear son; this is a very delicate attention on your part. I
am informed that stomachers are worn a thought less pointed than they
were. I care not, you well know, for such vanities; but respect for the
memory of your illustrious father renders me desirous to retain a
seemly appearance to the world, and my women shall give you written
instructions thereon to Madame Tourville; she lives in St. James's
Street, and is the only person to be employed in these matters. She is
a woman who has known misfortune, and appreciates the sorrowful and
subdued tastes of those whom an exalted station has not preserved from
like afflictions. So you go to-morrow: will you get me the scissors?
They are on the ivory table yonder. When do you return?"

"Perhaps never!" said I, abruptly.

"Never, Morton; how singular--why?"

"I may join the army, and be killed."

"I hope not. Dear, how cold it is: will you shut the window? pray
forgive my troubling you, but you _would_ send away the women. Join the
army, you say? It is a very dangerous profession; your poor father might
be alive now but for having embraced it; nevertheless, in a righteous
cause, under the Lord of Hosts, there is great glory to be obtained
beneath its banners. Alas, however, for its private evils! alas, for the
orphan and the widow! You will be sure, my dear son, to give the note
to Madame Tourville herself? Her assistants have not her knowledge of my
misfortunes, nor indeed of my exact proportions; and at my age, and in
my desolate state, I would fain be decorous in these things, and that
reminds me of dinner. Have you aught else to say, Morton?"

"Yes!" said I, suppressing my emotions, "yes, Mother! do bestow on me
one warm wish, one kind word, before we part: see,--I kneel for your
blessing,--will you not give it me?"

"Bless you, my child,--bless you! look you now; I have dropped my
needle!"

I rose hastily, bowed profoundly (my mother returned the courtesy with
the grace peculiar to herself), and withdrew. I hurried into the
great drawing-room, found Lady Needleham alone, rushed out in despair,
encountered the Lady Hasselton, and coquetted with her the rest of the
evening. Vain hope! to forget one's real feelings by pretending those
one never felt!

The next morning, then, after suitable adieux to all (