It was but a few days before this sequel was narrated to me, that the first communication had been made from the Countess of ---- to her husband. It was a summons to attend, if he wished, the burial of his only child--the heir of his name, and the bringer-back, had he lived, of wealth to the broken fortunes of his title. A severer blow could hardly have followed the first--for it struck down heart, pride, and all that could brighten this world's future. Lord ----came. The grave was made in a deep grove of firs on the estate of the boy's mother. There were but three mourners present--herself, her father, and her husband. The boy was ten or eleven years old when he died, and one of the most gifted and noble lads, in mind and person, that had ever been seen by those who knew him. On his horse, with his servant behind him, the young boy-lord was a constant sight of pride and beauty to the inhabitants of the county, and was admired and beloved every where he rode in his daily excursions. The service was read; the two parents stood side by side at the grave, while the body was laid in it--the first time they had met since their separation, and both in the prime of life, and with hearts yearning--both hearts, beyond a doubt--with love, and longing for forgiveness; and when the earth rang on the coffin, they _parted without exchanging a word_. The carriage of Lord ---- waited for him in the avenue; and with the expiring echo of his wheels through that grove of fir-trees, died all hope and prospect, if any had been conceived, of a re-union, in grief, of these proud broken-hearted. I have told you thus, with literal truth, all that I could know of this drama of real life; but, of course, its sketchy outline could be easily filled out by fancy. Your readers, perhaps, will like to do this for themselves. Yours truly, N. P. WILLIS. LINES TO ----. BY CAROLINE F. ORNE.