her son left the room. The mother turned round with a smiling face, and
said, "The darling cannot bear to hear it, but I sing it on purpose, to
prepare him for the inevitable."

"He is soft-hearted," said Mr. Wilton.

"He is the most affectionate of beings," replied the mother.
"Affectionate and mysterious. I can say no more. I ought to tell you his
character. I cannot. You may say he may have none. I do not know. He has
abilities, for he acquires knowledge with facility, and knows a
great deal for a boy. But he never gives an opinion. He is silent and
solitary. Poor darling! he has rarely had companions, and that may be
the cause. He seems to me always to be thinking."

"Well, a public school will rouse him from his reveries," said Mr.
Wilton.

"As he is away at this moment, I will say that which I should not care
to say before his face," said the lady. "You are about to do me a great
service, not the first; and before I leave this, we may--we must--meet
again more than once, but there is no time like the present. The
separation between Florestan and myself may be final. It is sad to think
of such things, but they must be thought of, for they are probable.
I still look in a mirror, Sidney; I am not so frightened by what has
occurred since we first met, to be afraid of that--but I never deceive
myself. I do not know what may be the magical effect of the raisins of
Malaga, but if it saves my life the grape cure will indeed achieve a
miracle. Do not look gloomy. Those who have known real grief seldom seem
sad. I have been struggling with sorrow for ten years, but I have got
through it with music and singing, and my boy. See now--he will be a