She was standing in the same position, and had spoken coldly and as sternly as such a voice as hers could speak, when something in the young girl's face caused her whole manner to change. With a sudden impulse she turned toward her, and held out both her arms; and Harry threw herself into them with a passionate cry, and sobbed as though her heart would break. "Hush! hush!" whispered the other, tenderly; "we must not weep now, but act!" But the girl still sobbed on, without lifting up her face. Tears had been strangers to her heated eyes for days, and she had longed in vain for one sympathizing breast on which to lay her head. "I have been his ruin," she murmured; "but for me he would never have done wrong. How you, who are his mother, must hate me!" "No, Harry, no!" answered the other, putting aside those rich brown locks, and gazing upon the fair shut face attentively. "I do not wonder at his loving you; for such beauty as yours many a man would lose his soul! I did hate you until now. But you love my Richard truly, as I see; and we two can not afford to be enemies. We must work together for his good to avert the ruin of which you speak, for it is imminent. He has sent me to you, for he can not come himself. He is in prison, Harry!" "In prison! O Heaven, have mercy!" She sank down on her knees, and covered her face with her hands. "Yes, Harry, think of it. Our Richard, so bright, so dear, within prison walls! He may pass his life there for what he has done for your sake, unless you help him." "Help him? I would die for him!" "Calm yourself. Sit down. To grieve is selfish where one can do better; when all is lost it is time enough for that. All _will_ be lost a fortnight hence, unless we bestir ourselves. Hush! I hear a step in the passage. Who is that?" "It is Sol, madam--Solomon Coe." "The man you are to marry, is it not?" A stifled groan was the girl's reply. "I can not speak what I have to say here," said the other, thoughtfully. "Is there no other place? Stay. I can be ill--overfatigued with my journey--and you will come and tend me in my own room presently. That can be managed, can't it?" "Yes, madam, yes." "Then wipe your eyes--be a brave girl. Think of Richard, and not of yourself--think of him, when yonder boor is clasping the hand that once rested in his--think of him, when those alien lips press yours at parting, and be strong! If I were in your place, he would find that I had not deserted him in his trouble." "Desert him, madam? I? Oh, never!" "To be weak is to desert him, girl--to let yonder man and your father suspect that any friend of Richard's is beneath this roof is to desert him--to weep when there is need to work is to desert him. Did I not tell you I was his own mother; and yet _I_ shed no tears! Look up, and learn your lesson from me."