Frances had, at length, completed her journey to the bell, and by agitating it, had occasioned, though at a later hour than usual, the appearance of a steaming tea-urn, hot rolls, &c. &c. She now began to dispense the good things over which she presided, and had just requested Fitz-Ullin to ring the bell for Alice to take her grandmamma’s breakfast, when the door opened, and, supported on one side by our old friend, Mrs. Smyth, and on the other by Julia, Mrs. Montgomery herself appeared. Whether it was the extreme contrast between the figures of the very old and the very young lady, or the amiable light in which youth always appears, while rendering support to the infirmities of age, or whether Julia might, for any reasons best known to herself, be really looking more blooming or more happy than usual, or whether there was any thing in Fitz-Ullin’s own thoughts which diffused a peculiar lustre over the charms of her he now viewed, almost for the first time as his own, or, whether all these causes operated together; certain it is, he found one moment to think her more lovely, more irresistibly attractive than ever, before the bustle immediately occasioned by Mrs. Montgomery’s entrance, commenced. It was the first time that lady, so deservedly the object of the love and veneration of all, had left her room since she had heard of Henry’s death. Every one rose to meet her—every one hailed her approach with a joyful welcome—and even Fitz-Ullin himself, in all the hurry of his spirits, had the presence of mind to remember the great chair in which she usually sat, and to place it for her. He also succeeded in finding the foot-stool, after twice stumbling over it in the course of his researches; and was, at length, amply rewarded by perceiving, at the conclusion of his labours, that the seat next to Julia had, by general consent, been left for him. Though the breakfast was rather a late one, seldom has there been a meal at which all who sat down to it were so truly happy. Those most interested, indeed, were almost too much so for enjoyment. The heart scarcely knows how, thus quickly, to appropriate so much new found felicity: at one moment it doubts the reality of the very bliss it feels, and the next trembles at being the repository of so great a treasure. The breakfast was ended, but no one moved; all seemed unwilling to break up so happy an assembly. Meanwhile, ungrateful world, the author, or at least the importer of so much joy, was, in the very intensity of that joy, totally forgotten, till an exclamation from Arthur, of “Oh, how beautiful!” drew pretty general attention towards the small table, on which the restored jewel box still stood open. “That’s true!” said our heroine: “where is poor Gotterimo? I have not thanked him for his honesty in bringing back these things. I forget, too, where it was he said he found them.”