332 THE MASTER OF THE HOUNDS. 



"Well, well, child," said the Earl, rather impatiently, "you 

 have disappointed me in the pleasure I anticipated ; but your 

 Aunt Gordon will not refuse the trust I shall repose in her, and 

 keep this key for you. So now give me your arm down-stairs, 

 but not another word, unless you would distress me more than 

 you have done already." 



With Beauchamp and the ladies' assistance, the Earl had 

 been enabled to walk up and down stairs, and after breakfast 

 was generally wheeled in his easy garden chair about the lawn, 

 which was several acres in extent, reaching down to the lake, 

 over whose silvery surface some favourite swans (one nearly his 

 equal in age) asserted their dignified supremacy, holding the 

 other wild fowl in terror of their sway. A servant carried a 

 small basket filled with corn and bread, with which his pets 

 were fed from the Earl's own hand, and with Blanche and 

 Constance on either side, his morning was thus spent; whilst 

 the old squire, Malcolm, and Beauchamp rode about the coun- 

 try, visiting the farm-houses belonging to the domain. The 

 reaction from this temporary excitement was soon, however, 

 apparent to all, and the poor old man, becoming exhausted by 

 his forced exertions, was, at the end of ten days after Blanche's 

 arrival, obliged, from excessive weakness, to keep to his own 

 apartment, which he was nev r er again destined to leave ; Mrs. 

 Gordon and Beauchamp sitting and reading to him, by turns, 

 portions of Scripture and religious books, from which he derived 

 consolation and support. 



The night in which he breathed his last, the aged Earl called 

 the family to his bedside, and joining the hands of the two 

 affianced couples together, invoked (like the patriarchs of olden 

 times) a blessing on their heads. Taking then an affectionate 

 and impressive leave of Mr. Beauchamp and Mrs. Gordon, be 

 sank back on his pillow, exhausted of his last remaining 

 strength, and continued in a state of stupor for some hours, 

 William Beauchamp sitting by his bedside ; his name was once 

 more uttered in a low tone, scarcely above a whisper. 



" I am here, my dear lord ; do you want anything ? Pray 

 take this cordial to revive you." 



" No, my dear boy ; I have done with the things of this 

 world. Oh ! what will be the next ? " 



"A far more glorious one than this, where, by God's mercy, 

 we shall all meet again, never more to part." 



" William," he whispered, " I almost despair of reaching 

 that better world." 



