He stands
Between me and a brave inheritance.
I may depend on you?
’Twere too late
To doubt it.
Let no foolish pity shake
Your bosom!
Byron.
The flight of Helen Grahame from her home was not followed by a convulsion of the household. Its internal economy proceeded with the same regularity as before. Mrs. Grahame, minus her grand and beautiful eldest daughter—the pride of her family—would, it was only natural to expect, have been overwhelmed by agony, distress, apprehension and unutterable woe at her mysterious bereavement. Love of offspring is the prominent element of maternity. A she-bear is a most loving mother, though its nature is none of the tenderest. Mrs. Grahame might reasonably be credited with much mental suffering, in consequence of the flight of her child, considering too how elegant, how accomplished, how handsome that child was.
To say that she remained unaffected by any of the emotions commonly produced by such an event, would be, perhaps, advancing too much; to say that she displayed none of them—no, not one, is only truth.