A new claim upon the overworked anxious soul. At the door of her son's house stood a carriage--an open carriage--luxurious and handsome, with two fine horses impatiently pawing the air, and a very fine footman at the door, talking to the little maid. Within the carriage, the same beautiful young woman whom Mrs. Vincent remembered to have seen waving a lovely hand to Arthur. No doubt it was Lady Western. The beauty did not bewilder Mrs. Vincent as she had bewildered Mrs. Vincent's son; but, with a thrill of mingled pride, admiration, and disapproval, she hastened forward at sight of her. Could she be asking for Arthur?--and could Arthur have ventured to love that lovely creature in her radiance of wealth and rank? With a mother's involuntary self-delusion Mrs. Vincent looked at the beautiful vision as at Arthur's possible bride, and was proud and displeased at the same moment; proud, that anything so lovely and splendid was to fall to her son's lot--disapproving, that Arthur's chosen should offer a mark of favour even to Arthur, so much more decided than accorded with the widow's old-fashioned notion of what became a woman. Mrs. Vincent did not think of the other figure by Lady Western's side--a man of great height, very slight, and rapid in his movements, with a long brown beard, and thoughtful eyes--eyes which lightened up and became as keen as they were dreamy, whenever occasion arose. Why should the widow look at him? She had nothing to do with him. This once in their life they were to come into momentary contact--never more. "Mr. Vincent ain't at home--but oh, look year!--here's his mother as can tell you better nor me," cried the half-frightened maid at the door. "His mother?" said the beautiful creature in the carriage; she had alighted in a moment, and was by Mrs. Vincent's side--"Oh, I am so glad to see Mr. Vincent's mother! I am Lady Western--he has told you of me?" she said, taking the widow's hand; "take us in, please, and let us talk to you--we will not tease you--we have something important to say." "Important to us--not to Mrs. Vincent," said the gentleman who followed her, a remarkable figure, in his loose light-coloured morning dress; and his eyes fell with a remorseful pity upon the widow, standing, drawn-back, and self-restrained, upon the ground of her conscious misery, not knowing whether to hope that they brought her news, or to steel herself into a commonplace aspect of civility. This man had a heart; he looked from the brilliant creature before him, all flushed and radiant with her own happiness, to the little woman by her side, in her pitiful widow's dress, in her visible paleness and desperation of self-control. It was he who had brought Lady Western here to put his own innocence beyond doubt, but the cruelty of that selfish impulse struck him now as he saw them stand together. "Important to us--not to Mrs. Vincent," he said again, taking off his hat to her with devout respect.