Charles Hamilton’s qualities of head and heart were much too _large_ for Mrs. James Melville, and, accordingly, though she received him as a guest, and was even glad to do so, from his social position and prospects--she regarded him with much the same feeling which prompted her attacks on Christian, and having noticed what poor Mary was too much occupied to notice, the bashful attention with which the young man hovered about her fair sister-in-law, Mrs. James had decided upon entirely crushing his hopes by exhibiting to him this evening, at her party, the crowning triumph of her friend Forsyth. Poor Mrs. James! how completely she had over-reached and outwitted herself. That evening found her accomplished friend the rejected--rejected with scorn and loathing, too--of simple Mary Melville, in no humour for contributing to the amusement of her guests, and Charles Hamilton in a far fairer way of success than even he himself had ever dreamt of, for Christian’s eyes are bent on him from time to time, and there is wonder blended with kindness in her frequent glances on his face, and her pleasant voice has an unconscious tone of affection in it as she speaks to him, as though she were addressing a younger brother. But the time has come when they must prepare for Mrs. James’s party; Christian will not go, Mary will not go, how could she? Halbert will not go, and the young stranger’s face grows suddenly clouded, and he moves uneasily on his chair, and at last rises reluctantly. Mr. Melville and Robert must go for a time at least, to excuse the others that remain at home, and tell James of Halbert’s return, and Charles Hamilton in vain hunts through every recess of his inventive powers to find some reason that will excuse him for sitting down again. But all fail, he can find nothing to offer as an excuse; he is intruding on the family this night, sacred as it is--the evening of the wanderer’s return--and when he may suppose they all so much desire to be alone; and so he must take his leave, however loth and reluctant so to do. But while so perplexed and disappointed Christian takes him aside, Christian bids him sit down and speak to her a moment when Robert and his father have gone away, and he does so gladly. Mary wonders what Christian can have to say to him, a stranger to her till the last hour, and looks over, with interest every moment increasing, towards the corner where they are seated side by side, and so does Halbert too; but there is no astonishment in his face, though there is compassionate affection beaming from his eyes. Their conversation seems to be most interesting to both, and the look of sad recollection on Christian’s gentle face seems to have been communicated to the more animated features of her companion, and at length he suddenly starts and clasps her hand. “Christian Melville!” he exclaims, “Oh that my mother were here!”