"Humble indeed is thy bed of rest, my poor St. Ledger," he exclaimed: "by far too humble for the virtues which I am certain were the real possessors of thy breast!--In thee my Ellenor has lost the friend she too, perhaps, fondly hoped, would one day have restored her to the arms of her Edward. With thee rested the knowledge of her retreat; and with thee--it may have perished!" The idea was too much: he sank on his knee by the grave--to Heaven his heart was open. "Oh God!" he cried, "immutable are thy decrees, nor can the proudest knowledge of man explore the mystery of thy ways! Greatly against thee have I offended, and just is the punishment thou hast inflicted: yet still let mercy blend with thy power, nor crush the head thou hast deigned to rear from the dust! Mine was the guilt; on me let thy vengeance fall: but spare my Ellenor the anguish which swells my heart; and if thy justice prohibit more, let me at least prove (however late the date) a friend to her I deceived, a parent to the offspring of our love!" He bowed his head on his knee, and for some minutes continued in mental supplication; till a sigh, responsive to that which burst from his own bosom, aroused him, and, on raising his head, he beheld his nephew within a few paces of the grave. "The same reason, my dear uncle," said Frederick, advancing, "I find, has separately brought us to this spot, that of taking a last farewell of the ashes of our worthy young friend, before we bid adieu to this part of England." "Such was my intention," answered the Captain, "though remembrance at the moment has hurried me into greater weakness." "Regret it not," said Frederick, affectionately taking his hand. "Sir Henry was deserving of the tear you have shed!--Peace to his spirit!--Nor need we doubt it: the God to whom he is gone, will condemn or acquit us according to the rectitude of our hearts, not the frailties of our words or actions." "That reflection may conduce more toward restoring peace to my bosom," said the Captain, "than all the sophisms of philosophy! "But come, Frederick, you have witnessed my weakness, let me retire from this spot, or I may relapse." He took the proffered arm of Frederick, and, giving a last look at the grave, dejectedly retraced his steps from the church-yard. A few days after, he received his expected orders to sail for Weymouth, previously to his convoying a fleet of Indiamen to the coast of China. A sigh swelled his bosom as he passed the cliffs of Brighthelmstone, and beheld the spot where he had once resided with his Ellenor, now lost to him, he feared, for ever. Remembrance, with keener powers, recalled her perfections; the sweetness of her manners, her chaste affection; each look, each tender endearment, dwelt on his memory, and was cherished in his heart as all that remained to him of her whom he loved. The idea of Mrs. Howard involuntarily obtruded--