The old trees had looked down for many years on groups of merry children playing beneath them, children whose shouts echoed all around, but who had long since passed away, their work in life done, and a new generation had taken their place—to pass away, too, in their appointed time. Yet still the old trees grew on.
But there was only one child playing there now. Brothers and sisters he had none. A fatherless child, too, but a merry one withal. The large brown eyes were almost always dancing with fun, save when they rested on the face of his widowed mother. Then there came a look of tenderness and a depth of love into them, which quieted the fun, it may be, but increased the happiness of the young spirit: for what were all the riches to which the boy was heir in comparison with the mother whom he adored?
Bold, reckless, and even disobedient to others, one word from her, one look of her soft gray eyes, brought him in his most rebellious humour a penitent to her knee.
In the midst of his play, in the noontide glory of that spring day, a voice called, "Sir James! Sir James! Come in; a gentleman wishes to see you."
Unheeded fell the servant's voice.
"Come in, indeed!" said the child, addressing the dog beside him. "Go indoors in such a glorious day as this! Not likely, Snap, is it, for all the gentlemen in the world?"
Then, as the call was repeated, and the butler walked up to his young master, the boy turned: "You can say I'm busy, Walter. If the gentleman wishes me, let him come here. It's a shame to be indoors in such a day!"
"It is her ladyship's desire you should come, sir; she said to tell you so," said the butler.
"Mamma wishes me? Oh, then, I must go! Here, Snap, come along! She won't wish to keep us long indoors."
On a sofa in the castle drawing-room lay a gentle-looking lady, dressed as a widow; a tall gentleman, not unlike herself, stood near her. They were engrossed in conversation; the subject a painful one to the lady apparently, for her eyes were full of tears, and her voice trembled as she said—