Round it are grouped the humbler osiered graves; over which, in lieu of tomb stones, are placed large black iron crosses, ornamented with brass, and bearing the simple initials of the bygone dead. Even Delmé, with all his ancestral pride, felt that George "slept well." It is true no leaden coffin enclosed his relics, nor did the murky vault of his ancestors, open with creaking hinge to receive another of the race. No escutcheon darkened the porch whence they bore him; and no long train of mourners followed his remains to their last home. But there was something in the quiet of the spot, that seemed to Delmé in harmony with his history; and to promise, that a sorrowless world had already opened, on one who had loved so truly, and felt so deeply in this. Sir Henry returned to the inn, and darkened his chamber. He had not the heart to prosecute his journey, nor to leave the spot, which held what was to him so dear. Carl Obers attempted to combat his despondency; but observing how useless were his arguments, wisely allowed his grief to take its course. There was one point, in which Delmé was decidedly wrong. He could not bring himself, to communicate their loss to his sister. Carl pressed this duty frequently on him, but was always met by the same reply. "No! no! how can I inflict such a pang?" It is possible the intelligence might have been very long in reaching England, had it not been for a providential circumstance, that occurred shortly after George's funeral. A carriage, whose style and appointments bespoke it English, changed horses at the inn at Wallensee. The courier, while ordering the relays, had heard George's story; and touching his hat to the inmates of the vehicle, retailed it with natural pathos. On hearing the name of Delmé, the lady was visibly affected. She was an old friend of the family; and as Melicent Dashwood, had known George as a boy. It was not without emotion, that she heard of one so young, and to her so familiar, being thus prematurely called to his last account. The lady and her husband alighted, and sending up their cards, begged to see the mourner. The message was delivered; but Delmé, without comment or enquiry, at once declined the offer; and it was thought better not to persist. They were too deeply interested, however, not to attempt to be of use. They saw Carl and Thompson,--satisfied themselves that Sir Henry was in friendly hands; and thanking the student with warmth and sincerity, for his attention to the sufferer, exacted a promise, that he would not leave him, as long as he could in any way be useful. The husband and wife prepared to continue their journey; but not before the former had left his address in Florence, with directions to Carl to write immediately, in case he required the assistance of a friend; and the latter had written a long letter to Mrs. Glenallan, in which she broke as delicately as she could, the melancholy and unlooked-for tidings. Chapter XII The Letter.