When Archer Clifton saw that all indeed was over; when he looked upon that mother-face, the first which had ever met his conscious gaze in life; that old, familiar face, which seemed to him coeval with his being, and a necessary part of it; that face the most intimate, the most loving, the most faithful which had ever shone upon his path of life;—and felt that it was lost forever; that the light of those quiet eyes was darkened forever; the sound of that kind voice silenced forever; the smile of those calm lips fled forever;—when he clasped that mother-hand, and felt that those dear fingers would close upon his own in cordial grasp never, never more;—oh! when he felt that all was over, over, “finished, done and ended,” he fell upon his knees by the corpse, dropped his head upon the cold, inanimate bosom, and broke into convulsive sobs. Weeping freely, Catherine knelt by his side, and put her arm around his neck. He was unconscious of her presence, until, after giving way to sorrow for a few moments, she lifted up her head, and wiped her eyes, and controlling her own emotion, sought to console him— “Do not grieve so, dear Archer,” she murmured, with her arm again around him, “do not grieve, but _pray_.” Then indeed he suddenly grew calm, unclasped the gentle arm of Catherine from his neck, arose slowly from his kneeling posture, took her hand, and raised her upon her feet, and regarding her with a stern and sorrowful countenance, said, in severe rebuke— “Come! madam! no more hypocrisy now! None here at least! It is useless hereafter! You have accomplished your design. You _are_ a ‘successful diplomatist,’ and your ’long slavery’ _is_ now over.” Catherine lifted her eyes, dilated with sorrow and amazement, and fixed them on his face an instant; but the look she met there, the expression of mingled suffering and severity, such as might have sat upon the brow of Brutus, when the feelings of the man and the duty of the judge strove in his bosom, awed her into silence before him. She could express no surprise or grief—ask no explanation. The old shyness and fear came over her, and her eyes fell, and her cheeks paled. Again he spoke in the same stern, sorrowful tone— “Ay, cower with conscious guilt! You are discovered! And you should have been unmasked before _her_ to-day, but that I did not wish to embitter her last moments! that only saved you! Come! leave the room that you desecrate with your presence! Leave me alone with my dead!” But instead of obeying, she stood like a statue before him. Then he took her hand and led her through the door, and closed it behind her.