“And, of course, it is a delight to us to be able to contribute to your happiness, you know,” said Mr. Campbell cheerily. Elspeth dropped her old-fashioned courtesy and went out. And very soon the three remaining in the parlor heard the mother and her son going down the passage to the rear dining-room that was behind the study. Hetty and Jennie took their needlework, and Mr. Campbell picked up the morning paper, which no one had had time to look at all day long, and began to read to them items of news. So an hour passed. The reunited mother and son lingered long in the dining-room, but at length they came out and entered the parlor. Longman went at once up to Mr. Campbell and said: “Sir, I thank you very much for the hospitality you have so kindly proffered me, and which, for my mother’s sake, I am very happy to accept.” “Don’t mention it, Mr. Longman. Have a seat. This is my daughter, Mrs. Montgomery,” said the curate, rising and handing a chair. Longman bowed profoundly to the young lady, and then dropped into his seat. Elspeth was speaking to Mrs. Campbell: “Which room did you say, ma’am, he might have?” “Any vacant one you please. The little room next to your own you might prefer, perhaps,” returned Hetty. “Yes, ma’am, I would, thanky, ma’am,” said Elspeth, and she left the parlor. “When did you reach England, Mr. Longman?” inquired Hetty, to make conversation and set the embarrassed colossus at his ease. “Only about twenty-four hours since, ma’am. And I had the honor of traveling in company with the new Squire of Haymore and his bride, expected by the people in this neighborhood,” replied Longman, looking down on his own folded hands, so that he failed to see the effect of his words; for Mr. Campbell started, Hetty gasped, and Jennie turned pale. And the conversation that followed was all at cross-purposes, for Longman came to speak of Randolph Hay, the only true Squire of Haymore, and his wife, Judith, and of their crossing the Atlantic Ocean together; while the curate and his family spoke of Kightly Montgomery, the fraudulent claimant, and his deceived bride, Lamia Leegh, and of their crossing the English Channel. “The Squire of Haymore and his lady are in England, then?” was the remark with which the curate reopened the conversation. “Yes, sir. I had the honor of coming over in the same steamer with them. We landed yesterday.” “And you left them in London?”