performed, all but John Wallingford took their leave, and I was soon left
in the place alone with my bachelor cousin. What a house it was! and what
a house it continued to be as long as I remained at Clawbonny! The
servants moved about it stealthily; the merry laugh was no longer heard in
the kitchen; even the heavy-footed seemed to tread on air, and all around
me appeared to be afraid of disturbing the slumbers of the dead. Never
before, nor since, have I had occasion to feel how completely a negative
may assume an affirmative character, and become as positive as if it had a
real existence. I thought I could _see_ as well as feel my sister's
absence from the scene in which she had once been so conspicuous an actor.

As none of the Hardinges returned to dinner, the good divine writing a
note to say he would see me in the evening after my connexions had
withdrawn, John Wallingford and myself took that meal _tête à tête_. My
cousin, with the apparent motive of diverting my thoughts from dwelling on
the recent scene, began to converse on subjects that he was right in
supposing might interest me. Instead of flying off to some topic so
foreign to my feelings as constantly to recall the reason, he judiciously
connected the theme with my loss.

"I suppose you will go to sea again, as soon as your ship can be got
ready, cousin Miles," he commenced, after we were left with the fruit and
wine. "These are stirring times in commerce, and the idle man misses
golden opportunities."

"Gold has no longer any charm for me, cousin John," I answered gloomily.
"I am richer now than is necessary for my wants, and, as I shall probably
never marry, I see no great use in toiling for more. Still, I shall go out
in my own ship, and that as soon as possible. _Here_ I would not pass the
summer for the place, and I love the sea. Yes, yes; I must make a voyage