We need scarcely say, therefore, that this, amiable nobleman, possessing
as he did all the high honor and integrity by which his whole life was
regulated, (with one solitary exception, for which his heart paid a
severe penalty,) carried along with him, in his old age, that respect,
reverence, and affection, to which the dignified simplicity of his life
entitled him. He was, indeed, one of those few noblemen whose virtues
gave to the aristocratic spirit, true grace and appropriate dignity,
instead of degrading it, as too many of his caste do, by pride,
arrogance, and selfishness.

Sir Thomas Gourlay, on entering the magnificent library to which he was
conducted, found his lordship in the act of attaching his signature to
some papers. The latter received him kindly and graciously, and shook
hands with him, but without rising, for which he apologized.

"I am not at all strong, Sir Thomas," he added; "for although this last
attack has left me, yet I feel that it has taken a considerable
portion of my strength along with it. I am, however, free from pain and
complaint, and my health is gradually improving."

"But, my lord, do you think you will be able to encounter the fatigue
and difficulties of a journey to London." replied the other--"Will you
have strength for it?"

"I hope so; travelling by sea always agreed with and invigorated my
constitution. The weather, too, is fine, and. I will take the long
voyage. Besides, it is indispensable that I should go. This wild son
of mine has had a duel with some one in a shooting gallery--has been
severely hit--and is very ill; but, at the same time, out of danger."