All other emotions were lost in regret and sympathy, as Mrs. Armstrong for the first time saw the painful change which illness had made in the mother of Henry Halford; she pressed the offered hand, and spoke her commiserations in a tearful voice. The invalid, while she retained Mrs. Armstrong's hand, described her sufferings and sorrows, and spoke of her daughter's death; and her listener noticed with pain that not only the physical but the mental powers of Mrs. Halford had received a shock from which it was scarcely possible they could ever recover. Presently, as Mrs. Armstrong withdrew her hand and moved to glance at her daughter, the invalid said-- "I have my son with me now; he came home from Oxford last week. He looks pale, Mrs. Armstrong. Don't you think so?" Mrs. Armstrong turned and bowed to Henry Halford. She almost started at his white face and trembling lips as he raised his hat and said-- "Good afternoon, Mrs. Armstrong." Then she turned and looked at her daughter. Never in her life had she seen her so pale. Quickly recovering herself for the sake of the young people, she said in a cheering tone-- "Mr. Halford is perhaps studying too closely, so we must expect him to look pale and----" "Yes, yes," interrupted the invalid, "but that is not all; he has never been well since your husband's reply to his letter about your daughter." "Mother, mother, hush! you forget.--Forgive her, Mrs. Armstrong," he added, in a lower tone. "Her heart is broken about poor Fanny, she scarcely knows what she is talking about." "But have any letters passed between you and Mr. Armstrong?" she asked with painful eagerness. Mary had heard the invalid's words, and her pale cheeks flushed as she listened for Henry Halford's reply. "One only from me," he said, "and Mr. Armstrong's answer, in which he refuses----" he stopped abruptly, and then said hurriedly, "But it is all past now. Pray excuse us, Mrs. Armstrong, it is time my mother was at home." "Henry, I am very sorry, I did not mean it," exclaimed the poor broken-hearted mother, as she saw by her son's face and manner that he was painfully annoyed. Mrs. Armstrong saw it also. She took the trembling hand in hers and said-- "Don't make yourself uneasy, my dear friend, it will all come right in time. We must trust and hope." "Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong," said Henry, "you have helped me to trust and hope. I will never forget those words." He took off his hat to the ladies as they turned to continue their walk, while the pallor which had so startled them had given place to the flush of hope which Mrs. Armstrong's words had excited. For some moments neither mother nor daughter spoke, both were reflecting anxiously on what they had just heard. Mrs. Armstrong, although at first taken by surprise, could quite understand her husband's wish to conceal even from her the correspondence between himself and Henry Halford.