"You have brought public remark upon the name of Wetheral," resumed her mother, her eyes darting fire. "You have betrayed the confidence of your mother, who hoped to see her daughter an envied creature! You have thrown away the jewels of life, to grasp at shadows. Happiness!--_who_ is happy?--not those who are born to stand apart in grandeur--not those upon whom the eyes of the multitude gaze in admiration. It may be a word bandied by the humble, to balance the evils of poverty, and give a zest to lowly destinies--but the great ones heed it not. _They_ live in a sphere set apart from grovelling notions--they spurn the folly of romantic, sickly fancy, to hold on their course like meteors! I am a parent most miserable. I am deprived of all I laboured to advance. My heart was anchored upon the glorious destiny of three children, who have betrayed their high calling--but Bell has done the worst. A dukedom was offered her!--a dukedom was tendered to her, I say! and the puny coward struck it from her!--oh, that hour to a mother's heart!..." Lady Wetheral's vehemence overpowered her strength. The sudden and unaccountable appearance of her daughter, without any previous warning, almost led her to suppose a spirit from the dead had risen to taunt her with her deep disappointments. It seemed as if a spirit from another world had sought her, to jeer and mock at her misery as a defeated mother, and that form assumed the likeness of her banished Julia. What! had she heard the word "infamy" spoken?--did she hear that Lady Ennismore had flown from her husband? Was this to be added to Clara's death, and Christobelle's ingratitude? Was she indeed to endure this accumulated burthen of crushed hopes?--to see _all_ her long years of anxious efforts destroyed, and behold the very beings she had raised so high, turn to rend her? What spirit could bend under such fearful ingratitude, that possessed one spark of _her_ indomitable determinations? A deep pause succeeded. Julia still listened, with her face buried in her hands, and her dress was yet in the grasp of her mother's hand, when a cry from Mrs. Bevan startled her. Lady Ennismore looked up in terror. She beheld her incensed parent standing before her, in the attitude of reproach, but her eyes were dull, and her form had become rigid: contending passions were warring with terrible violence in her heart. It was a fearful and affecting scene to witness, but it could not long last. Lady Ennismore's terror at her unfortunate mother's state obliterated for the moment her own sorrows, and she flew to assist Mrs. Bevan in her cares. Sir John Wetheral and Christobelle were instantly summoned, and the Castle became a scene of alarm and confusion. Mrs. Spottiswoode was again a true-hearted and valuable friend in their affliction.