She was met upon the road by Osy and his nurse, and the little boy was delighted to be lifted into the carriage, an unusual privilege. His chatter was sweet to his mother’s ears. It delivered her for the moment from those anxieties which were not hers, which she was compelled to share without any right to them; without being permitted any real interest. Osy was her refuge, the safeguard of her individuality as a living woman with concerns and sentiments of her own. To put her arms round him, to hear the sound of his little babbling voice, was enough at first; and then she awoke with a start to the consciousness that Osy was saying something in which there was not only meaning, but a significance of a most alarming kind--“Movver, Movver!” the little boy had been saying, calling her attention, which was so satisfied with him, that it was scarcely open to what he said. He beat upon her knee with his little fist, then climbed up on the seat and seized her by the chin--a favourite mode he had of demanding to be listened to: “Movver! has Cousin Gervase don to be marrwed? Where has he don to be marrwed--tell me; tell me, Movver!” Mrs. Osborne started with a sudden perception of what he meant at last. “Osy, you must not be so silly; Gervase has gone to London to see all the fine things--the shops, don’t you remember? and the theatres, and the beautiful horses, and the beautiful ladies in the park.” “Yes, I wemember; there was one beau’ful lady with an organ, that singed in the street. But you said I couldn’t marrwey her, I was too little. Will Cousin Gervase marrwey a lady like that?” “Hush, child! he is not going to marry at all.” “Oh yes, yes, Movver! for he telled me. He made me dive him my big silver penny that Uncle Giles dave me, and he said, ‘I’m doing to be marrwed, Osy.’ I dave it to him for a wedding present, like you dave Miss Dohnson your silver bells.” “Osy, don’t say such things! It is nurse that has put this nonsense into your head.” “’Tisn’t nurse, and ’tisn’t nonsense, Movver!” cried the child with indignation. “Will he bring home the beau’ful lady, or will he do away with her, and live in another place? I hope he will go and live in another place.” “Osy, this is all an invention, my little boy. You must be dreaming. Don’t say such things before any one, or you will make Uncle Giles and Aunt Piercey very unhappy. It is one of your little stories that you make up.” “It isn’t no story, Movver! I never make up stories about Cousin Gervase; and he tooked my big silver penny, and then I dave it him for a wedding present; for he said ‘I’m doing to be marrwed.’ He did; he did--Movver! I hope he’ll do away and live in another house. I dave it to him,” said Osy, with a little moisture on his eyelashes. “But he tooked it first. It was my big, big, silver penny, that is worth a great lot. I hope----” “Hush, Osy: don’t you know, my little boy, that Cousin Gervase is to his mother what you are to me? She would not like him to go away.”