weary I am of the heartless, useless life that I lead. I wish I had been your daughter: I should have had some one to look up to, and to love. Ah, the lot of Constance was far happier than we deem!"
"I believe it was," replied Lord Norbourne, kindly taking his companion's hand. "I have learnt to think of my loss with a sadness that soothes me. I turn to her image when overfretted with worldly cares. I hope almost as she hoped for our re-union."
"I cannot tell you," continued Henrietta, "how often I think of her. Perhaps, from being the only objects of my affections that I ever lost, her idea and that of my uncle are singularly blended together. Ah, we never know how dearly we loved our friends until the grave has closed over them."
Lord Norbourne would then fain have said something to comfort her, but even he could think of nothing. All consolations appear commonplace in the presence of a great sorrow. For other griefs there are many pleas to urge for forgetfulness; but to urge upon us
