"Yes!--yes!" replied she bitterly. "it is her--there lies your daughter--look upon her face." He needed, indeed, but to look upon her countenance--disfigured as it was, and dyed with weeds to give it a sallow hue--to behold in it every lineament of her mother's, lovely as when they first met his eye and entered his heart. He flung himself on the ground by her side, he raised her head, he kissed her cheek, he exclaimed, "my child!--my child!--my lost one! I have destroyed thee!" He bound up her lacerated arms, and applied a flask of wine, which he carried with him, to her lips, and he supported her on his knee, and again kissing her cheek, sobbed, "my child!--my own!" Andrew Smith also bent over her and said, "Oh, it is her! there isna the smallest doubt o' that. I could swear to her among a thousand. She's her mother's very picture." And, turning to Susan, he added, "O Susan, woman, but ye hae been a terrible hypocrite!" Clennel having placed his daughter on horseback before him, supporting her with his arm, Susan was set between two of his followers, and conducted to the hall. Before the tidings were made known to Lady Clennel, the wounds of her daughter were carefully dressed, the dye that changed the colour of her countenance was removed, and her gipsy garb was exchanged for more seemly apparel. Clennel anxiously entered the apartment of his lady, to reveal to her the tale of joy; but when he entered, he wist not how to introduce it. He knew that excess of sudden joy was not less dangerous than excess of grief, and his countenance was troubled, though its expression was less sad than it had been for many years. "Eleanor," he at length began, "cheer up." "Why, I am not sadder than usual, dear," replied she, in her wonted gentle manner; "and to be more cheerful would ill become one who has endured my sorrows." "True, true," said he, "but our affliction may not be so severe as we have thought--there may be hope--there may be joy for us yet." "What mean ye, husband?" inquired she, eagerly; "have ye heard aught--aught of my children?--you have!--you have!--your countenance speaks it." "Yes, dear Eleanor," returned he, "I have heard of our daughter." "And she lives?--she lives?--tell me that she lives!" "Yes, she lives." "And I shall see her--I shall embrace my child again?" "Yes, love, yes," replied he, and burst into tears. "When--oh, when?" she exclaimed, "can you take me to her now?" "Be calm, my sweet one. You shall see our child--our long-lost child. You shall see her now--she is here." "Here!--my child!" she exclaimed, and sank back upon her seat. Words would fail to paint the tender interview--the mother's joy--the daughter's wonder--the long, the passionate embrace--the tears of all--the looks--the words--the moments of unutterable feeling.