When Grace came to herself, she first saw Lady Berryl leaning over her, and, raising herself a little, she said, “What has happened?--I don’t know yet--I don’t know whether I am happy or not.--Explain all this to me, my dear friend; for I am still as if I were in a dream.” With all the delicacy which Lady Clonbrony deemed superfluous, Lady Berryl explained. Nothing could surpass the astonishment of Grace, on first learning that Mr. Nugent was not her father. When she was told of the stigma that had been cast on her birth; the suspicions, the disgrace, to which her mother had been subjected for so many years--that mother, whom she had so loved and respected; who had, with such care, instilled into the mind of her daughter the principles of virtue and religion; that mother whom Grace had always seen the example of every virtue she taught; on whom her daughter never suspected that the touch of blame, the breath of scandal, could rest--Grace could express her sensations only by repeating, in tones of astonishment, pathos, indignation--“My mother!--my mother!--my mother!” For some time she was incapable of attending to any other idea, or of feeling any other sensations. When her mind was able to admit the thought, her friend soothed her, by recalling the expressions of Lord Colambre’s love--the struggle by which he had been agitated, when he fancied a union with her opposed by an invincible obstacle. Grace sighed, and acknowledged that, in prudence, it ought to have been an _invincible_ obstacle--she admired the firmness of his decision, the honour with which he had acted towards her. One moment she exclaimed, “Then, if I had been the daughter of a mother who had conducted herself ill, he never would have trusted me!” The next moment she recollected, with pleasure, the joy she had just seen in his eyes--the affection, the passion, that spoke in every word and look; then dwelt upon the sober certainty, that all obstacles were removed. “And no duty opposes my loving him!--And my aunt wishes it! my kind aunt! and my dear uncle! should not I go to him?--But he is not my uncle, she is not my aunt. I cannot bring myself to think that they are not my relations, and that I am nothing to them.” “You may be every thing to them, my dear Grace,” said Lady Berryl:--“whenever you please, you may be their daughter.”