Soon a waiter entered, and lighted up the rooms; and he had scarcely closed the blinds and withdrawn, before the sound of carriage-wheels was heard approaching, and the lady hastened out into the hall. The carriage paused before the door, and in an instant after, Mark Sutherland had alighted, and was clasped to the bosom of his mother. “Oh, my dear Mark! I am so overjoyed to have you again!” “Dear mother, I am so proud and happy to find you looking so well! Permit me to present my friend—Mr. Lincoln Lauderdale—Mrs. Sutherland.” A low bow from the gentleman, and a deep courtesy from the lady, and then smilingly throwing off her habitual reserve, Mrs. Sutherland offered her hand, saying— “I am very glad to see you, Mr. Lauderdale. You are not a stranger, I assure you. My son has taught me to esteem you, and desire your friendship. Will you enter now?” And with another smile she gave her hand to her guest, and permitted him to lead her into the drawing-room. Mr. Sutherland remained in the hall to give some directions to the grooms, and to order the baggage of his guest to be taken up to his chamber. After which he entered the parlour, and laying his hand affectionately upon his friend’s shoulder, said— “My dear Lauderdale, when you feel disposed—or, rather, _if_ you feel disposed—to change your dress—Flamingo will show you your apartment. Supper will be ready—Madame, when will supper be ready?” “My dear Mark, any time—in an hour—an hour and a half”—— “In an hour, Lincoln; that will give you ample time. Flame! lights here. Show Mr. Lauderdale to his room, and consider yourself in his exclusive service while he honours us with his company. I presume you will prefer Flame, my dear Lincoln, because you already know the fellow.” “Thank you, but really I do not need”—— “Oh, say not a word, my dear boy! When you have been subjected to the enervating influence of this climate for a week, you will better know what you need.” By this time Flamingo made his appearance with chamber lamps. Lauderdale arose to follow him. Sutherland accompanied him into the hall. “My dear Mark,” said the former, “did I understand you to say that Mrs. Sutherland was your _own_ mother?” “Undoubtedly my own mother! What a question! Besides, my friend, pardon me! but really, where are your eyes? We are said to be the image of each other!” “Well, now, although both of you are dark, with high complexions, I cannot see the likeness, to save my soul,” said Lauderdale, mischievously; then adding, “she is very handsome.” “_Is she not!_” echoed Sutherland, with enthusiasm, and accompanying Lauderdale up stairs—“the handsomest woman in the world? oh, except _one_. You should see India. And, more than that, she—my mother, I mean—is the most excellent, except—_none_.” “I cannot think that she was so handsome in early youth as she is now.”