‘No; our number has never yet been broken; but for this little man, I trust that the sense of duty may be deepened, and with it his love to you all; and surely that is not what will quench the blithe temper.’
‘May it be so!’ said Sophy. ‘He may have enough of his mother in him to be happy.’
‘I must think that the recollection of so loving a brother, and his pride in him for a hero, may make the stream flow more deeply, but not more darkly.’
‘There never was a cloud between them,’ said Sophy.
‘Clouds are all past and gone now between those who can with him “take part in that thanksgiving lay,”’ answered Ulick, kindly.
‘Yes,’ said Sophy. ‘My uncle says it was peace at last! Oh! if humbleness and penitence could win it, one might be sure it would be his.’
‘True,’ said Ulick. ‘It was a beautiful thing to find the loving sweetness and kindness refined into self-devotion and patience, and growing into something brighter and purer as it came near the last. It will be a precious recollection.’
‘To those who have no self-reproach,’ sighed Sophy; and after a pause she abruptly resumed, ‘You once blamed me for being hard with him. Nothing was more true.’
‘Impossible—when could I have presumed?’
‘When? You remember. After Oxford.’