Pelham had been in London two or three days before he could muster sufficient courage to visit Mrs. Pelham. “You must come, Dick,” said his young wife; “your keeping away looks strange. Mrs. Pelham has been talking to mother about you and wondering why you never come near her. She sent us an invitation only yesterday, and she wants us to take tea with her this afternoon. I accepted her invitation for us both. Come with me, and get it over.” Pelham remained silent for a moment. Then he said— “Yes, Barbara, it is best to get it over. I will come.” At the appointed hour they arrived at Ashley Mansions. Mrs. Pelham was alone in the old drawing-room where Dick had so often greeted her in the presence of little Piers. Barbara in her rich furs, her eyes sparkling and the color of health and happiness on her cheeks, made a lovely picture as she advanced eagerly into the room. She held out both her hands, and tears of sympathy filled her eyes. She put her arms round the little widow’s neck and kissed her. Mrs. Pelham received her with effusion, but her real anxiety was to get a glimpse of Dick. “Ah!” she said, “you have come at last.” She looked full up into the young man’s face and burst into tears. “I didn’t think you would have left me so long,” she continued. “I thought you would have been a son to me now.” She sobbed audibly. Pelham was visibly affected. Mrs. Pelham sat down, and he placed himself near her. Presently she held out one of her hands and invited him to clasp it in his. “No one in all the world is as dear to me as you are now,” she said. “I thought that under the circumstances you would rather not see me,” said Pelham. “What a strange thought to come to you! You certainly were wrong. Do you think I grudge you what once belonged to him? I am not quite so base as that.” “Dick has been in very low spirits since little Piers’s death,” said Barbara suddenly. “He felt his death dreadfully. He loved him as if he were his own brother.” “I know that,” said Mrs. Pelham, taking out her handkerchief and applying it afresh to her eyes. “And now—I say it quite frankly, Dick—now that God has seen fit to remove little Piers, I am more glad that you should have the property than any one else in the world. If anything could reconcile me to the death of my only boy, it is the thought that you are his heir.” “Thank you,” said Dick. “You are more than good.” “Will you come and visit us at Pelham Towers this winter, Mrs. Pelham?” said Barbara. Mrs. Pelham looked attentively from one young face to the other—Barbara’s full of eagerness, fire and enthusiasm, Dick’s strangely downcast. “Yes, I will come,” she answered. “Dick, you feel all this too much.” Pelham walked to the mantelpiece. There he stood fidgeting with one of the ornaments, his back turned to Mrs. Pelham and Barbara. Barbara saw that the interview was proving too much for him. She was distressed and alarmed at his state, and as soon as possible rose to leave.