The mother had claimed her own, but alas, the fond cry of welcome to sweet Adah Hastings was a death knell to ’Lina, for it seemed to shut her out of that gentle woman’s heart. There was no place for her, and in her terrible desolation she stood alone, her eyes wandering wistfully from one to another, but turning very quickly when they fell on the convict, her father. She would not have it so; she could not own a servant for her mother, that villain for her father, and worse—oh, infinitely worse than all—she had no right to be born! A child of sin and shame, disgraced, disowned, forsaken. It was a terrible blow, and the proud girl staggered beneath it. “Will no one speak to me?” she said, at last; “no one break this dreadful silence? Has everybody forsaken me? Do you all loathe and hate the offspring of such parents? Won’t somebody pity and care for me?” “_Yes, ’Lina_,” and _Hugh_—the one from whom she had the least right to expect pity—Hugh came to her side; and winding his arm around her, said, with a choking voice, “_I_ will not forsake you, ’Lina; I will care for you the same as ever, and so long as I have a home you shall have one too.” “Oh, Hugh, I don’t deserve this from you!” was ’Lina’s faint response, as she laid her head upon his bosom, whispering, “Take me away—from them all—up stairs—on the bed! I am so sick, and my head is bursting open!” Hugh was strong as a young giant, and lifting gently the yielding form, he bore it from the room—the bridal room, which she would never enter again, until he brought her back—and laid her softly down beneath the windows, dropping tears upon her white, still face, and whispering, “Poor ’Lina!” As Hugh passed out with his burden in his arms, the bewildered company seemed to rally; but the convict was the first to act. Turning to Mrs. Worthington, still shivering in the corner, he said, “Eliza, you see I did _not_ die as that paper told you, but it suited me then to be _dead_, and so I wrote the paragraph myself, sending you the paper. For this you should thank me, as it made a few years of your life happier, thinking I was dead. I have come here to-night for my children’s sake; and now that I have done what I came to do, I shall leave you, only asking that you continue to be a mother to the poor girl who is really the only sufferer. The rest have cause for joy; you in particular,” turning to the doctor. “But tell me again what was that I heard of Adah’s having fled?” Anna repeated the story, and then conquering her repugnance of the man, asked if he would not immediately seek for her and bring her back if possible. “My brother will help you,” she said, “when he recovers himself,” and she turned to the doctor, who suddenly seemed to break the spell which had bound him, and springing to his feet, exclaimed, “Yes, Lily shall be found, but I must see my boy first. Anna, can’t we go now, to-night?”