As Mrs. Grosvenor ceased speaking she looked upon her son, and could
hardly realize that her little rosy-cheeked Harry, who had loved to lay
his head upon her bosom, and listen while she told him of his father,
who had gone away over the blue water, to get such pretty things for his
boy, had grown to be a tall lad of fifteen years; and well might she
have been proud of her son, for the nobleness of his soul was apparent
in every feature. As Vingo expressed himself, "Young massa Harry am got
up ob what neber would get used to de atmosphere ob old Berginny."

"Mother," said Harry, "I shall never forget your teachings. I shall
always hold them sacred in my heart, and wherever I go, in whatever
circumstances I am placed, I will be true to you, my mother;" and he
pressed a fervent kiss upon the brow of her who was worthy the name.

As Mrs. Grosvenor returned her son's embrace, she felt that perhaps she
had said too much; that she had been selfish in wishing to have him
always near her; and she observed that he wore an expression of pain, of
deep emotion, which he in vain attempted to conceal.

The Sea-flower had rested her head upon her hand, and while her mother
had been engaged with Harry, a silent spectator might have wondered to
what unseen object those deep oases of love were imparting their
purity. The words of Harry had fallen upon her ear,--"I shall see what
old Ocean is made of;" shall we follow in the train of her musings? they
will lead us not where the fallen tread. On the banks of the still
waters of peace, 'neath the willows, whose tears are of innocence, frisk
the tender lambs, who taste only of the sweets of the green pasture:--"I
shall see what old ocean is made of." Far away in coral dells, where the
nymphs of ocean tune their harps in praise to Nature's God, the
Sea-flower loves to ramble, as if she had been a child in time long