Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep
straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were
within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed
Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer's lodging, but was
little fitted for a permanent abode.

In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no
ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with
more affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung
from the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and
returning such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that
he had done nothing to forfeit home love and confidence.

Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford
looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively,
"All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey?
Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now,
Freddy, tell us about your examination," added she, as fondly leaning on
his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together
on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously.

Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in
truth one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the
admiration expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the
features were beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet
placid resignation which would have made a far plainer face beautiful.
The eyes were deep dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed
their brightness, their softness was increased; the smile was one of
peace, of love, of serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it
were, before her time, had lived on in meek patience and submission,
almost a child in her ways, as devoted to her mother, as little with
a will and way of her own, as free from the cares of this work-a-day
world. The long luxuriant dark brown hair, which once, as now with
Henrietta, had clustered in thick glossy ringlets over her comb and
round her face, was in thick braids beneath the delicate lace cap which
suited with her plain black silk dress. Her figure was slender, so tall
that neither her well-grown son nor daughter had yet reached her height,
and, as Frederick said, with something queenlike in its unconscious
grace and dignity.

As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and eve