Acting under advice, Mrs. Sinclair wrote the owners of the _Kestrel_, asking them to forward her such effects as were found upon their vessel which were believed to belong to her son; and in the course of a few days she received a parcel containing an overcoat, with his pocket-book,—sad memorials of one fondly loved but now lost for ever. Some months later, she was rather astonished to receive a visit from one of the members of the firm who happened to be away up North on a holiday tour; and to learn from him that it had been discovered that the financial relations of her son with them were anything but what they should be. That, from inquiries they had felt it necessary to make, he had not only been mixed up with a very questionable class of companions, but had made free use of the moneys of the firm which had passed through his hands. At cards, it would seem, he had lost heavily, and had paid his debts with gold that was not his own. [Illustration: AT CARDS HE HAD LOST HEAVILY.] It may well be supposed this in no way tended to lessen the grief experienced at the loss she had sustained. The thought that her son, whom she had doted upon, and hoped would have been a comfort in her declining years, should have disgraced his own and his father’s good name, was madness to her, and for a time seemed likely to deprive her of her reason. Her daughter Jennie was most assiduous in attending on her mother during this trying period; and her youth, coupled with a robust constitution, peculiarly fitted her for this task. For although feeling keenly the disgrace which her brother’s conduct had brought upon the family, and the untimely end which had apparently overtaken him, she did not give way or break down after the manner of her mother, on whom the infirmities of advancing years were beginning to leave their mark. By slow degrees she rallied, and was able again to resume her place in the household, but the old spirit had left her, so that she never seemed able to hold herself up as in former days. Her neighbours and friends evinced much sympathy with her at her loss,—the true cause of the deep-seated grief they witnessed they were kept in ignorance of. The nights of agony spent in mourning over the frailties and faults of her boy—her darling boy!—not even her daughter knew anything about. She could not but note, however, how prematurely her mother was ageing, and it was with a painful sense of what might be before her that she contemplated, day after day, the tottering form, which seemed as if bowed down with the weight of years. At Broadstone, the feeling of regret which at first prevailed when the tidings of young Sinclair’s drowning was made known, had gradually given place to anger and resentment, when it ultimately became the topic of conversation that he had defrauded the firm of between four and five thousand pounds.