"Can it be that handsome young man is Ellen’s child?" she said, and she waited anxiously till he appeared again. He stopped before her then, and with a beating heart she listened to what they called him, and then asked who he was. "It is my boy,—it is," she murmured between her quivering lips, and as soon as she saw that he was free she joined him, as we have seen, and led him to another room. For a moment she hesitated, as if uncertain what to say, then, as they were left alone, she began: "My conduct may seem strange to you, but I cannot help it. Twenty-five years ago a sweet girlish voice called me mother, and the face of her who called me thus was much like yours, young man. She left me one summer morning, and our house was like a tomb without her; but she never came back again, and when I saw her next she lay in her coffin. She was too young to be lying there, for she was scarcely twenty. She died with the shadow of my anger resting on her heart, for when I heard she had married one whom the world said was not her equal, I cast her off, I said she was not mine, and from that day to this the worm of remorse has been gnawing at my heart, for I hear continually the dying message they said she left for me: ’Tell mother to love my baby for the sake of the love she once bore me.’ I didn’t do it. I steeled my proud heart even against the little boy. But I’m yearning for him now,—yearning for that child to hold up my feeble hands,—to guide my trembling feet and smooth my pathway down into the valley which I must tread ere long." She paused, and covering her face, wept aloud. Glancing hurriedly around, Walter saw that no one was very near, and going up to her, he wound his arm round her, and whispered in her ear: "My mother’s mother,—my grandmother,—I never expected this from you." Before Mrs. Bellenger could reply, footsteps were heard approaching, and William appeared with Jessie. He had told her of his grandmother’s unexpected arrival that morning, and when she expressed a wish to see her, he started in quest of her at once. He knew that he was not a favorite with her, but she surely would like Jessie, and that might make her more lenient toward himself; so he had sought for her everywhere, learning at last from Mrs. Bartow that she had gone off with Walter. "Upon my word," he thought, "he has commenced his operations soon," and a sudden fear came over him lest Walter should be preferred to himself by the rich old lady. And this suspicion was not in the least diminished by the position of the parties when he came suddenly upon them. "He is playing his cards well," he said, involuntarily, while Jessie was conscious of a feeling of pleasure at seeing Walter thus acknowledged by his grandmother.