When they entered the inn, they found that the professor and the three negroes were there before them. Ishmael gave the requisite orders, and they were so promptly executed that when, a few minutes later, the coach called, the whole party was ready to start. The judge and Ishmael rode inside, and the professor and the three negroes on the outside; and thus they journeyed to Aberdeen, where they arrived in time to jump on board the express train that left at two o'clock for Edinboro'. They reached Edinboro' at five o'clock in the afternoon, and drove immediately to Magruder's Hotel. Here they stopped only long enough to change their traveling dresses and dine. And then, leaving the three negroes in charge of the professor, they set out in a cab for Cameron Court. It was eight o'clock in the evening when they arrived and sent in their cards. The countess and Claudia were at tea in the little drawing room when the cards were brought in. "Show the gentlemen into this room," said Lady Hurstmonceux to the servant who had brought them. And in a few minutes the door was thrown open and--"Judge Merlin and Mr. Worth" were announced. The countess arose to welcome her guests. But Claudia felt all her senses reel as the room seemed to turn around with her. Judge Merlin shook hands with his hostess and presented Ishmael to her, and then, leaving them speaking together, he advanced to embrace his daughter. "My dearest Claudia, all is well. We have settled the whole party, the viscount, the valet, and the woman. They are lodged in jail, and are safe to meet the punishment of their crimes," he said, as he folded her to his bosom. But oh! why did her heart beat so wildly, throbbing almost audibly against her father's breast? He held her there for a few seconds; it was as long as he decently could, and then, gently releasing her, he turned towards Ishmael, and beckoning him to approach, said: "My daughter, here is an old friend come to see you. Welcome him." Ishmael advanced and bowed gravely. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Worth," said Claudia in a low voice, as she held out her hand. He took it, bowed over it, and said: "I hope I find you well, Lady Vincent." And then as he raised his head their eyes met; his eyes--those sweet, truthful, earnest, dark eyes, inherited from his mother--were full of the most respectful sympathy. But hers--oh, hers! She did not mean to look at him so; but sometimes the soul in a crisis of agony will burst all bounds and reveal itself, though such revelation were fraught with fate. Grief, shame, remorse, and passionate regret for the lost love and squandered happiness that might have been hers, were all revealed in the thrilling, pathetic, deprecating gaze with which she once more met the eyes of her girlhood's young worshiper, her worshiper no longer. "Of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are these: 'It might have been.'"