CHAPTER XVIII.
"Banished I am if but from thee:
Yet now farewell."
Shakspeare.
After a miserable night, the morning ray dawned upon that melancholy chamber, containing the remains of the young De Brooke.
The father's heart, though torn with grief for the loss of his only son, still melted with compassion for the mother, as, faint and exhausted from suffering, she continued weeping over her lifeless child. The bereavement they had mutually experienced was attended by that overwhelming emotion too recent to admit of consolation. Sad and silent, they sat in mournful expectation of that final scene, the interment of their son. Alas! the dreaded hour arrived; and oh! to paint the anguish of that disconsolate couple, whilst taking a last look of their Little Aubrey, at that cherished
