"The sight appeared to rouse Sir Henry. He flew to her, and, by the tenderest appellations, endeavoured to recall her senses. Recollection soon returned, when, clasping his hand—
"'Oh, Harry!' she cried, 'I needed not this last instance of your indifference to show how little claim I had to your regard. The ties to a mother with you are now forgotten; it once was otherwise: but Corbet will follow the steps of his father!'
"Sir Henry regarded her wildly—'My father, Lady Corbet!—--' he stopped, his lip trembled, and quitting her, he paced the room with agitated steps. Lady Corbet burst into tears—.
"'Harry, do not, I entreat you, torture me with this behaviour, I have not merited it. To you I have looked for that consolation and support which, as a widow and a mother, I had a right to expect. How it has been rendered, I need not say. Silence and mystery have been the return to my solicitude—your desertion in the hour of sorrow, the reward of my tenderness!'
"Sobs impeded her utterance—she could not proceed; but Sir John, with great strength of reasoning, endeavoured to convince Sir Henry, how wrong his conduct had been, and to persuade him to act consistently with the duty he owed his mother, and to his own character, in the eyes of the world. The young gentleman listened to him some time in silence; a sigh only now and then swelled his bosom. At last, on Sir John urging him to return to Wales, with his mother, he looked earnestly in his face, and with a tone of voice highly impressive, pronounced the simple denial—'I cannot, Sir John, return to the seat of my forefathers!'
"'No!' said Sir John. 'Whither then would you go?'
"Sir Henry waved his hand—. 'The world is before me!'
"I had been, during this time, endeavouring to soothe Lady Corbet; but on hearing the replies of her son, she again hastened to him, threw her arm round his neck, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, wept in silence. Sir Henry gently disengaged himself, and reconducting her to the sofa, seated himself by her.
"'Why, my mother,' he said, 'do you wish my return to Corbet Hall? Do not, I conjure you, thus wantonly seek to plunge me into greater unhappiness. Of my wretchedness you have been a witness: of what I have suffered in my mind, you can form no idea! To me, the spot where my father expired is a place of horror—of distraction! to which, if confined, neither my head nor my heart can long sustain me in existence!'
"Sir John listened to this address with some surprise; then, shaking his head at me, pointed his finger to his forehead, as implying he thought the young wanderer impaired in his intellects.