Tears glistened in the mother's eyes: she asked many questions, and Mrs. Fitzhenry a little recovered her self-possession, as she answered them. She looked at Lady Lodore--she was changed--she could not fail of being changed after so many years,--she was no longer a beautiful girl, but she was a lovely woman. Despite the traces of years, which however lightly they impressed, yet might be discerned; expression so embellished her that it was impossible not to admire; brilliancy had given place to softness, animation to serenity; still she was fair--still her silken hair clustered on her brow, and her sweet eyes were full of fire; her smile had more than its former charm--it came from the heart. Mrs. Fitzhenry was not, however, to be subdued by a little outward show. She was there, who had betrayed and deserted (such were the energetic words she was accustomed to employ) the noble, broken-hearted Lodore. The thought steeled her purpose, and she contrived at last to ask whether Lady Lodore was going to remain much longer in Essex? "I have been going every day since I came here. In a few weeks I shall certainly be gone. Why do you ask?" "Because I thought--that is--you have made a secret of your being here, and I expect Ethel in a day or two, and she would certainly discover you." "Why should she not?" asked Lady Lodore. "Why should you be averse to my seeing Ethel?" It is very difficult to say a disagreeable thing, especially to one unaccustomed to society, and who is quite ignorant of the art of concealing the sting of her intentions by flowery words. Mrs. Fitzhenry said something about her sister-in-law's own wishes, and the desire expressed by Lodore that there should be no intercourse between the mother and daughter. Cornelia's eyes flashed fire--"Am I," she exclaimed, "to be always the sacrifice? Is my husband's vengeance to pursue me beyond his grave--even till I reach mine? Unjust as he was, he would not have desired this." Mrs. Elizabeth coloured with anger. Lady Lodore continued--"Pardon me, Bessy, I do not wish to say any thing annoying to you or in blame of Lodore. God knows I did him great wrong--but--" "O Cornelia," cried the old lady, "do you indeed acknowledge that you were to blame?"