Colonel Sutherland stood before his brother-in-law in a flush of unusual and inexpressible passion. He could not give utterance to the indignant, mortified, impatient surprise with which he heard these words. But what can any one say? It is hard for the voice of kindred to praise a poor woman--even when she is dead--while her husband looks on blankly, and is the best judge whether his wife has been a good wife or not. So he is, of course: therefore, be silent, brother of the dead--say nothing about her--she is judged elsewhere, and beyond human criticism now. But the old soldier stood listening, with the pang of wonder, almost stronger than that of anger and indignation, at his heart. He was so much surprised, that he was speechless. This unexpected sentiment shook him suddenly in his supposed position, and turned all his previous ideas into folly. He was not the brother of a wife beloved, the uncle of children who cherished their mother's memory, but an intruder, presuming upon a past relationship. A flush of deep mortification came upon his face: he made a stately, ceremonious bow to his ungracious host-- "In that case--as things are," stammered the Colonel, "I will make no encroachments upon your hospitality. Pray, don't say anything--it is unnecessary. I--I shall take care to pay due respect to your desires so far as your children are concerned. In short, I beg you to understand that your secret is, and has always been, with me as though I knew it not; but," said Colonel Sutherland, pausing in his haste, and steadying his voice, "it was, as you are well enough aware, known to half, at least, of your former friends, and that by no--no indiscretion on the part of--my sister--and it is open at this day, or any day, to the most indifferent stranger who chooses to pay a fee at Doctors' Commons. What you can mean, in these circumstances, by a precaution so--by such precautions, I cannot tell. Is it not better your son should learn this from his father, than from any ill-disposed companion whom the young man may pick up? But that is certainly not my business. I presume that I may, without objection on your part, see my niece and nephew sometimes during the few days I remain in the nearest village? The children must acknowledge a certain relationship with their mother's brother." "Oh!" said Mr. Scarsdale, with a slight blush of shame on his cheek, "I shall be glad to have you remain here." Glad! the word was out of keeping entirely with his aspect and that of the scene; it looked like a piece of mockery. Colonel Sutherland bowed again with still more ceremony. "It is too late," he said, quietly.