We looked for lady Cairnedge all the next day. John was up by noon, and ready to receive her in the drawing-room; he would not see her in his bedroom. But the hours passed, and she did not come. In the evening, however, when the twilight was thickening, and already all was dark in the alleys of the garden, her carriage drove quietly up--with a startling scramble of arrest at the door. The same servants were outside, and a very handsome dame within. As she descended, I saw that she was tall, and, if rather stout, not stouter than suited her age and style. Her face was pale, but she seemed in perfect health. When I saw her closer, I found her features the most regular I had ever seen. Had the soul within it filled the mould of that face, it would have been beautiful. As it was, it was only handsome--to me repulsive. The moment I saw it, I knew myself in the presence of a masked battery. My uncle had insisted that she should be received where we usually sat, and had given Penny orders to show her into the hall-kitchen. I was alone there, preparing something for John. We were not expecting her, for it seemed now too late to look for her. My uncle was in the study, and Martha somewhere about the house. My heart sank as I turned from the window, and sank yet lower when she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. But as I advanced, I caught sight of my uncle, and went boldly to meet the enemy. He had come down his stair, and had just stepped into a clear blaze of light, which that moment burst from the wood I had some time ago laid damp upon the fire. The next instant I saw the lady's countenance ghastly with terror, looking beyond me. I turned, but saw nothing, save that my uncle had disappeared. When I faced her again, only a shadow of her fright remained. I offered her my hand--for she was John's mother, but she did not take it. She stood scanning me from head to foot. “I am lady Cairnedge,” she said. “Where is my son?” I turned yet again. My uncle had not come back. I was not prepared to take his part. I was bewildered. A dead silence fell. For the first time in my life, my uncle seemed to have deserted me, and at the moment when most I needed him! I turned once more to the lady, and said, hardly knowing what, “You wish to see Mr. Day?” She answered me with a cold stare. “I will go and tell him you are here,” I faltered; and passing her, I sped along the passage to the drawing-room. “John!” I cried, bursting in, “she's come! Do you still mean to see her? Are you able? Uncle--” There I stopped, for his eyes were stern, and not looking at me, but at something behind me. One moment I thought his fever had returned, but following his gaze I looked round:--there stood lady Cairnedge! John was face to face with his mother, and my uncle was not there to defend him! “Are you ready?” she said, nor pretended greeting. She seemed slightly discomposed, and in haste.