enacted over again, but with additional splendour.

The time came, and with it the long-lost son. Mrs Hardman met him on
the hall steps, and clasped him in her arms with a fondness she had
never evinced before. But he was impatient. There was another being
whom he longed to fold in his arms. Mrs Hardman conducted him,
impelled by impatience, into her dressing-room, where Catherine
waited, trembling and expectant. Herbert rushed forward and clasped
her in an embrace which seemed to pour forth an age of long-suppressed
and passionate affection. The mother looked on in silent delight. She
seemed to share in the lovers' slightest emotion.

The first raptures having subsided, Herbert gazed upon the face of
his mistress. At the first glance he would have started back, had not
the firm affection of Catherine's embrace detained him. From the most
vivid signs of love and hope fulfilled, his countenance altered to an
expression of doubt and disappointment. 'Catherine?' he said in a
tone of inquiry--'_my_ Catherine?'

'Yes,' replied the mother sorrowfully. 'But how changed,' replied
Herbert somewhat abruptly; 'how very much changed!'

A mass of thought and recollection, a revulsion of feeling, passed
through Catherine's brain; but tears burst forth to relieve her.
Herbert gradually released her from his embrace, and his mother
stepped forward to support her. She gazed steadfastly at her son, and
read in his countenance a presage which she dreaded to interpret.
After a time Hardman withdrew to receive the congratulations of the
guests, amongst the foremost of whom were Lord and Lady Elizabeth
Plympton. He had scarcely closed the door, ere Mrs Hardman placed her