'Is she well? Is she happy?--say but that!' she exclaimed, sobbing as she spoke. 'She was well and contented when I last heard from her,' replied Mrs Pemberton calmly. 'Heard from her? Then she writes to you! Oh, blessed, blessed woman! show me her letters, and tell me only that she has forgiven me for all my unkindness to her--' As she said this, Mrs Mowbray threw her arms round Mrs Pemberton, and sunk half-fainting on her shoulder. 'I will tell thee all that has ever passed between us, if thou wilt be composed,' gravely answered Mrs Pemberton; 'but this violent expression of thy feelings is unseemly and detrimental.' 'Well--well--I will be calm,' said Mrs Mowbray; and Mrs Pemberton began to relate the interview which she had with Adeline at Richmond. 'How long ago did this take place?' eagerly interrupted Mrs Mowbray. 'Full six years.' 'Oh, God!' exclaimed she, impatiently,--'Six years! By this time then she may be dead--she may--' 'Thou art incorrigible, I fear,' said Mrs Pemberton, 'but thou art afflicted, and I will bear with thy impatience:--sit down again and attend to me, and thou wilt hear much later intelligence of thy daughter.' 'How late?' asked Mrs Mowbray with frantic eagerness;--and Mrs Pemberton, overcome with the manner in which she spoke, could scarcely falter out, 'Within a twelvemonth I have heard of her.' 'Within a twelvemonth!' joyfully cried Mrs Mowbray: but, recollecting herself, she added mournfully--'but in that time what--what may not have happened!' 'I know not what to do with thee nor for thee,' observed Mrs Pemberton; 'but do try, I beseech thee, to hear me patiently!' Mrs Mowbray then re-seated herself; and Mrs Pemberton informed her of Adeline's premature confinement at Richmond; of her distress on Glenmurray's death, and of her having witnessed it. 'Ah! you acted a mother's part--you did what I ought to have done,' cried Mrs Mowbray, bursting into tears,--'but, go on--I will be patient.' Yet that was impossible; for, when she heard of Adeline's insanity, her emotions became so strong that Mrs Pemberton, alarmed for her life, was obliged to ring for assistance. When she recovered,--'Thou hast heard the worst now,' said Mrs Pemberton, 'and all I have yet to say of thy child is satisfactory.' She then related the contents of Adeline's first letter, informing her of her marriage:--and Mrs Mowbray, clasping her hands together, blessed God that Adeline was become a wife. The next letter Mrs Pemberton read informed her that she was the mother of a fine girl. 'A mother!' she exclaimed, 'Oh, how I should like to see her child!'--But at the same moment she recollected how bitterly she had reviled her when she saw her about to become a mother, at their last meeting; and, torn with conflicting emotions, she was again insensible to aught but her self-upbraidings. 'Well--but where is she now? where is the child? and when did you hear from her last?' cried she.