Alas, good lady, feebly he replied, I have but few more days on this side the grave, and them I must employ in asking mercy of my God, and imploring blessings on your son, who has been to me as an angel before death. This said, she left him, and retired unseen to her chamber. John was soon after heard, as usual, at her door, and admitted. Come to my arms, she cried, my dear, my noble boy! Did you but know how I feel and why I feel your charity to that poor soldier, you would not wonder at the tears I shed, whilst thus I press you to a breaking heart. But you will know me after I am dead, and that time is not far off. Leave me, my child; I shall not often send for you; my sorrows must be only to myself. Go, go, be happy! I am very ill. Send Wood; and leave the room. In the forenoon of the day next ensuing, young John De Lancaster visited the poor soldier; he was dying, but found strength to say--God bless you and farewell! Had I been relieved when I begged charity of that neighbouring gentleman, who turned me from his door, I think I might have lived, but I fainted soon after, and all your goodness could not save me. He then reached out his hand, and delivered to John a small leathern purse, which he prayed him to open. It contained a plain gold ring, which Captain Jones had given him in charge for his daughter Amelia, being the wedding ring of her mother: could he have reached Denbigh, he had delivered it to her: he had been strongly beset by hunger more than once, but he had resisted every impulse to part from it, and had fulfilled his trust at the expence of his life: he now committed the deposit to the care of one, who he was sure would faithfully convey the legacy to its proper owner, and he devoutly prayed to heaven, that it might prove a blessing to the wearer--John took the ring, and assured him it should never pass from any other hands but his into those of Amelia Jones. In the evening of that day the soldier died. * * * * * Have patience with me, kind and courteous reader! I am not leading you into the regions of romance: I aim not to surprise you; but I am aiming to find out, (if haply nature shall direct my hand) that clue, which, rightly followed, may empower me to unravel the recesses of your heart. This is my object; in attempting this, success, however short of triumph, will repay me; but, if I wholly fail, my labour’s lost; I have no second hope. END OF THE SECOND BOOK. BOOK THE THIRD. CHAPTER I. _Early Efforts of our Hero’s Genius._ John’s attachment to the harp of David Williams inspired him with a desire for being taught a few easy tunes by so great a master. In this ambition he was warmly encouraged by his grandfather, who considered it as the unequivocal characteristic of a true De Lancaster, and boldly predicted that he would rapidly advance to hereditary celebrity on that ancient and noble instrument.