She was one whose life had ever been serious, solemn, and sad.
Wealth and the outward pomp of circumstances had conferred upon her a certain dignity; and with that doubtless there had reached her some feeling of satisfaction.

Religion too had given her comfort, and a routine of small duties had saved her from the wretchedness of ennui.
But life with her had had no laughter, and had seldom smiled.

Now in the first days of her widowhood she regarded her course as run, and looked upon herself as one who, in speaking, almost spoke from the tomb.

All this had its effect upon the young lord.

She did inspire him with a certain awe; and though her weeds gave her no authority, they did give her weight.
"Yes; I shall start to-morrow," he replied.
"And you still mean to go to Ireland ?" "Yes;--I must go to Ireland.