Robert Vavasour slept, slept for hours; and during that long sleep Amy and Mrs. Archer arranged their future plans; her husband must not be told of his mother's existence yet; in the first place, he was not strong enough to bear any excitement, and in the next, the poor, fond mother hoped to win a little of his kindly feeling, if not his love, before she held him to her heart. "I hope to win his love in time," she said quietly to Amy, "to feel he loves me before he knows he is bound to do so. I cannot hope now for the first strong love of his heart--that deep earnest love with which he loves his wife; but I feel nevertheless that I shall be satisfied with my son's love. His face is like his father's, and he must be as noble and as good, to have won such love as yours." Then Mrs. Archer went away to seek Mr. Linchmore, and hear the story of her wrongs, leaving Amy to watch sadly and alone for her husband's awaking. Sadly, for how would his eyes meet hers? Would they have the same stern, severe look that had shivered her heart for so long? Would he still think she loved him not? But she would tell him all by-and-by. She could not live as she had lived: he must hear and judge whether she was as guilty as he thought her. Robert awoke to consciousness: awoke to see the soft eyes of his wife, looking mournfully, doubtfully, but oh! how lovingly at him. As his eyes met hers, a tender light played in them; he even pressed the hand she held so tremblingly in hers; but only for a moment, the next, as she bent down and pressed her lips to his, he gave a deep sigh, and turned his face away wearily. "He has not forgotten!" murmured Amy mournfully, as she rose and went to seek Dr. Bernard, "He has not forgiven!" CHAPTER XVI. THE CLOUDS CLEAR. "Nor could he from his heart throw off The consciousness of his state; It was there with a dull, uneasy sense, A coldness and a weight. It was there when he lay down at night, It was there when at morn he rose; He feels it whatever he does, It is with him wherever he goes. No occupation from his mind That constant sense can keep; It is present in his waking hours, It is present in his sleep." SOUTHEY. Mrs. Elrington could not resist Anne's pleading letter, but decided on going at once to Brampton; her heart was too compassionate to refuse to aid those in distress, and especially one who had ever held, as Amy had, a high place in her esteem and love. As soon as Anne received the answer so favourable to her wishes, she prepared at once to return home, and went to Amy--not with the glad news of the now expected guest, that she decided had best not be mentioned--but to say good-bye, and a very sorrowful one she felt it. Amy was sitting working in her own room, once poor Bertie's; her mind as busily employed as her fingers, only more mournfully; when Anne burst open the door in her usual hasty way.