"Oh no, indeed," I exclaimed; "I did not mean, did not think of such a thing. It was a childish way of expressing my admiration of the painting. If you will give me the privilege of sometimes calling to look at it, I shall be greatly indebted." I hurried down stairs, fearful of committing myself in some way, so as to betray the secret of my birth. "I wish you would come and see us often, Mrs. Linwood," said Mrs. Brahan, as I bade her adieu. "We are not very fashionable; but if I read your character aright, you will not dislike us on that account. A young person, who is almost a stranger in a great city like this, sometimes feels the want of an older friend. Let me be that friend." "Thank you, dear madam," I answered, returning the cordial pressure of her hand; "you do not know how deeply I appreciate your proffered friendship, or how happy I shall be to cultivate it." With many kind and polite expressions, they both accompanied me to the door, and I left them with the conviction that wedded happiness might be perfect after the experience of seventeen years. When alone in the carriage, I tried to compose my agitated and excited mind. So much had been crowded into the space of a few hours, that it seemed as if days must have passed since I left home. I tried to reconcile what I had _heard_ with what I had _seen_ of my father; but I could not identify the magnificent artist, the man of genius and of feeling, with the degenerate being from whom I had recoiled one hour ago. Could a long career of guilt and shame thus deface and obliterate that divine and godlike image, in which man was formed? He must have loved my mother. Desperation for her loss had plunged him into the wildest excesses of dissipation. From my soul I pitied him. I would never cease to pray for him, never regret what I had done to save him from ruin, even if my own happiness were wrecked by the act. I had tried to do what was right, and God, who seeth the heart, would forgive me, if wrong was the result. CHAPTER XXXVII. Letters from Mrs. Linwood and Edith waited me at home. Their perusal gave me an opportunity to collect my thoughts, and an excuse to talk of them, of Grandison Place, rather than of topics connected with the present. Yet all the time I was reading Mrs. Linwood's expression of trusting affection, I said to myself,-- "What would she say, if she knew I had parted with her splendid gift, unknown to my husband, whose happiness she committed so solemnly to my keeping?" I told Ernest of the interesting circumstances connected with Mr. Brahan's house, and of the picture of my mother I so longed that I should see. The wish was gratified sooner than I anticipated; for that very evening, it was sent to me by Mr. Brahan, with a very elegant note, in which he asked me to take charge of it till the rightful owner appeared to claim it as his own.