"I was easily prevailed on to enter, when the Lieutenant, opening the door of an inner room, presented to my view a lady and a youth in deep mourning. They did not perceive our entrance. The silent tear was trickling down the face of the youth; but his mother, for such she proved, wrung her hands, and, in a voice broken by sobs, exclaimed—'Oh, my Henry, to what distress has thy death reduced us!' She fell on the neck of her son, when the lovely Ellen hastening to her, with accents of the mildest pity, entreated she would be composed.
"'I could, Ellen,' answered the Lady, 'were I the only sufferer; but, alas! a prison awaits us; and my child—my Edward, what must then become of you?'
"'Fear not for me, my dear mother,' answered her son, with rising spirit. 'I will follow the steps of my brave father, and if I fall, I cannot die more nobly than in the cause of my country!' His voice, his manners, were all St. Ledger's.—By Heavens, I could have loved him as a brother!
"His mother pressed him to her bosom, but tears choked her utterance. The Lieutenant regarded her with a look of commiseration, which seemed, for the moment, to banish all thoughts of his own affliction. 'Yield not thus to despondency,' he cried, 'my worthy friend; the God whose power can calm the turbulence of the storm, and raise the sinking mariner, will never desert thee or thy offspring.'
"She answered but with her tears, when a beautiful girl, whose countenance, like the rest, bore marks of the deepest grief, entered, and in a voice, I thought, of alarm, entreated her assistance in an adjoining room.
"She instantly complied, and retired, followed by her son and the lovely Ellen.
"'Child of misfortune,' sighed the Lieutenant, 'may you one day experience happiness, proportionate to the sorrow you now endure.'
"Then, addressing me, he thanked me, in elegant terms, for the assistance I had afforded his niece: her name revived the anguish of his own breast, and, perceiving me interested by what I had beheld, he gave me the outlines of his life, a life marked, indeed, by misfortune! I thanked him for the confidence he had reposed in me, and, apologizing for the freedom of the offer, entreated to know if it were in my power, or that of my uncle, to render any assistance to the lady I had seen.
"The Lieutenant shook his head.—It was not, he said.—'Pecuniary distresses,' he continued, 'are but the secondary causes of her affliction. Early in life she lost a beloved husband, and for many years experienced the keenest unhappiness: at last Heaven sent a friend, who promised to redress the injuries she had suffered; but it was not to be: death has bereaved her of her protector; and for him it is she grieves, independently of the misery which awaits her.'
"Delicacy forbade my urging any farther, and, unwilling to intrude, I took a reluctant leave.—But, surely, my dear uncle, something may be done; theirs is not a common distress: they need a friend, and, had I the wealth of the universe—"