"'I love you a thousand, thousand times better than anything else in the world. Oh I how I wish I were your own little boy.'
"Then the bright tears would flow fast down her marble cheeks, and she would sigh so deeply, as she returned with interest my childish passionate caresses.
"Ah, Geoffrey, my childish heart spoke the truth. I loved that high-born, noble woman, better than I have since loved aught in this cold, bad world: at least, my affection for her was of a purer, holier character.
"My mother was taken home to the Hall, to act as wet nurse to little Margaret; and I remained at the cottage with my harsh, cross grandmother, who beat me without the slightest remorse for the most trifling faults, often cursing and wishing me dead, in the most malignant manner.
"My father, whom I seldom saw (for his occupation took him often from home, which was rendered too hot for comfort, by the temper of his mother-in-law), was invariably kind to me. When he came in from the stables he would tell me funny stories, and sing me jolly hunting songs; and what I liked still better, would give me a ride before him on the fine hunters he had under his care: promising that when I was old enough, I should take them airing round the park, instead of him.
"My poor father! I can see him before me now, with his frank, good-natured face, and laughing blue eyes: his stalwart figure, arrayed in his green velvet hunting-coat, buckskin breeches and top-boots; and the leather cap, round which his nut-brown hair clustered in thick curls; and which he wore so jauntily on one side of his head. Roger Mornington was quite a dandy in his way, and had belonged to a good old stock; but his father ran away when a boy, and went to sea, and disgraced his aristocratic friends; and Roger used to say, that he had all the gentlemanly propensities, minus the cash.
"He doted upon me. 'His dear little jockey!' as he used to call me; and I always ran out to meet him when he came home, with loud shouts of joy. But there came a night, when Roger Mornington did not return; and several days passed away, and he was at length found dead in a lonely part of the park. The high-spirited horse he rode had thrown him, and his neck was broken by the fall—and the horse not returning to the stables, but making off to the high road, no alarm had been excited at the absence of his rider.
"My mother was sincerely grieved for his death; he was a kind, indulgent husband to her; and it was the first severe pang of sorrow that my young heart had ever known.
"The day after his funeral, I was sitting crying beside the fire, holding my untasted breakfast on my knee.
"'Don't take on so, child,' said my mother, wiping the tears from her own eyes. 'All the tears in the world won't bring back the dead.'