it was almost worth while to endure all these sufferings for the sake of such a welcome as awaited him at home. A good fire, and a good dinner, are wonderful restoratives; and Mrs. Courtenaye was so happy at seeing her son again, that he could not but feel happy too. She hung round him, watching his every look as if she grudged the veriest menial offices from the servants; and she almost scolded him for not eating, when he had done justice enough to the good things set before him to have satisfied even the cook herself. Some old writer says, "we like to see those we love eating and sleeping;" and there is much truth in the homely remark. We like them to be the objects of our active care, or of our patient watchfulness.
Mrs. Courtenaye idolised her son, with that intense love which a reserved and proud temper feels for the one and only object on which it lavishes all its hoarded affection. His father had died when his only child was but two years old; and to that child his young, rich, and beautiful widow, had been wholly devoted.
