That
ring, taken from the lifeless hand a few hours later, was sent to me.
Singularly enough, it is broken right across the name from a fall a
little time previous. . . .
It is a great comfort to me, dear friend, that I took Henry with me to
Dunrobin. I hesitated about keeping him so long from his studies, but
still I thought a mind so observing and appreciative might learn from
such a tour more than through books, and so it was. He returned from
England full of high resolves and manly purposes. "I may not be what
the world calls a Christian," he wrote, "but I will live such a life
as a Christian ought to live, such a life as every true man ought to
live." Henceforth he became remarkable for a strict order and energy,
and a vigilant temperance and care of his bodily health, docility and
deference to his parents and teachers, and perseverance in every duty.
. . . Well, from the hard battle of this life he is excused, and the
will is taken for the deed, and whatever comes his heart will not be
pierced as mine is. But I am glad that I can connect him with all my
choicest remembrances of the Old World.
Dunrobin will always be dearer to me now, and I have felt towards you
and the duke a turning of spirit, because I remember how kindly you
always looked on and spoke to him. I knew then it was the angel of
your lost one that stirred your hearts with tenderness when you looked
on another so near his age.
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