And then the young man, overpowered with the feelings of a sympathising and generous nature, forgetting for a while Catherine’s weakness, poured forth a torrent of inquiries, regrets, and self-upbraidings, which Catherine at first little heeded. But the name of her children, repeated again and again, struck upon that chord which, in a woman’s heart, is the last to break; and she raised herself in her bed, and looked at her visitor wistfully. “Your father,” she said, then--“your father was unlike my Philip; but I see things differently now. For me, all bounty is too late; but my children--to-morrow they may have no mother. The law is with you, but not justice! You will be rich and powerful;--will you befriend my children?” “Through life, so help me Heaven!” exclaimed Arthur, falling on his knees beside the bed. What then passed between them it is needless to detail; for it was little, save broken repetitions of the same prayer and the same response. But there was so much truth and earnestness in Arthur’s voice and countenance, that Catherine felt as if an angel had come there to administer comfort. And when late in the day the physician entered, he found his patient leaning on the breast of her young visitor, and looking on his face with a happy smile. The physician gathered enough from the appearance of Arthur and the gossip of Mr. Perkins, to conjecture that one of the rich relations he had attributed to Catherine was arrived. Alas! for her it was now indeed too late! CHAPTER XI. “D’ye stand amazed?--Look o’er thy head, Maximinian! Look to the terror which overhangs thee.” BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: The Prophetess.