Severe as these conditions were, she at last agreed to them, though to do so cost her many a bitter tear; but, when she thought of her own destitute condition, and of the brighter prospects which the proposed arrangement would open to her son, she struggled to suppress the fond yearnings of a mother’s affection, and to close with an offer which she hoped would be for her boy’s future benefit. It was with an agonised heart she tore herself from her little Philip, whose uncle received him with the greatest delight, and solemnly promised to be to him as a father. She then bade adieu for ever to her native land, after having again ineffectually endeavoured to obtain her father’s forgiveness. In two years’ time, she was again a wife and a mother. Mr Malcolmson, a respectable Scottish tradesman, when on a visit to some friends in Cork, had accidentally seen the young widow, at the time when her late bereavement, and her family’s cruel rejection of her, excited universal sympathy and commiseration; and when he afterwards met her in Edinburgh, where she was living in humble seclusion, he contrived to form her acquaintance; and, in a few months, made her a formal offer of his hand and fortune. Mrs Denby received his addresses with graceful and grateful acknowledgments; but told him that she had no heart to bestow, that her affections were buried in the grave with her husband, and that she could never love another. “If you cannot _love_ me as your husband,” replied he, “you may respect and esteem me—you may look upon me as your friend, your guardian, your protector—as one whose pride and pleasure it will be to anticipate all your desires, and to shield you from all annoyances.” In her union with the worthy and amiable Malcolmson, Ellen Denby was blessed with a recompense for all her past distresses: for ten years he was to her the kindest of husbands, the most affectionate of friends; and the only unhappy moment she experienced during her union, was that on which it was about to be dissolved for ever. He left her comfortably provided for, with three children—two girls, and a boy, the hero of our tale. Edward Malcolmson, at the time of his father’s death, was a boy of excellent dispositions; and, as he grew up, he amply fulfilled the promise of his childhood. He was a young man of solid rather than brilliant talents; mild and gentlemanly in his manners; slow to form plans, but persevering and determined in following them out. He had received a medical education, and had distinguished himself by his close application to his studies, and by his rapid progress in professional acquirements. Through the interest of some of his late father’s friends, he had obtained an appointment on the Bengal establishment; and was, at the time of the commencement of our story, on his way to London, there to join the ship that was to convey him abroad. Mrs Malcolmson’s nearest neighbour in Edinburgh, was a widow lady, named Martin, who, like herself, was