Chapter 2

How steadfastly he fix'd his eyes on me--
His dark eyes shining through forgotten tears--
Then stretch'd his little arms, and call'd me mother!
What could I do? I took the bantling home--
I could not tell the imp he had no mother.
COUNT BASIL.

When Warden had left the apartment, the Lady of Avenel gave way to the
feelings of tenderness which the sight of the boy, his sudden danger,
and his recent escape, had inspired; and no longer awed by the
sternness, as she deemed it, of the preacher, heaped with caresses the
lovely and interesting child. He was now, in some measure, recovered
from the consequences of his accident, and received passively, though
not without wonder, the tokens of kindness with which he was thus
loaded. The face of the lady was strange to him, and her dress
different and far more sumptuous than any he remembered. But the boy
was naturally of an undaunted temper; and indeed children are
generally acute physiognomists, and not only pleased by that which is
beautiful in itself, but peculiarly quick in distinguishing and
replying to the attentions of those who really love them. If they see
a person in company, though a perfect stranger, who is by nature fond
of children, the little imps seem to discover it by a sort of
free-masonry, while the awkward attempts of those who make advances to
them for the purpose of recommending themselves to the parents,
usually fail in attracting their reciprocal attention. The little boy,
therefore, appeared in some degree sensible of the lady's caresses,
and it was with difficulty she withdrew herself from his pillow, to
afford him leisure for necessary repose.

"To whom belongs our little rescued varlet?" was the first question
which the Lady of Avenel put to her handmaiden Lilias, when they had
retired to the hall.

"To an old woman in the hamlet," said Lilias, "who is even now come so
far as the porter's lodge to inquire concerning his safety. Is it your
pleasure that she be admitted?"

"Is it my pleasure?" said the Lady of Avenel, echoing the question
with a strong accent of displeasure and surprise; "can you make any
doubt of it? What woman but must pity the agony of the mother, whose
heart is throbbing for the safety of a child so lovely!"

"Nay, but, madam," said Lilias, "this woman is too old to be the
mother of the child; I rather think she must be his grandmother, or
some more distant relation."

"Be she who she will, Lilias," replied the Lady, "she must have an
aching heart while the safety of a creature so lovely is uncertain. Go
instantly and bring her hither. Besides, I would willingly learn
something concerning