"Well--well!" said Lady Corbet, with quickness, "I believe thee! Though were revenge thy wish, thou hast it--in its utmost extent! Mallet,--the ungrateful Mallet, has deserted me!--Struck with Louise, and her behaviour on the evening of his detection, he wished the restoration of her fortune; but instead of requesting, he commanded it! Had he entreated--pleaded her claim to maternal attention and justice, I think I should have complied! But, unused to commands, I peremptorily refused him: and, in return, he threatened, by the law's aid, to force me to a restitution of my aunt's fortune! Rendered furious by this insolence, I forbade him my sight; and, without seeking to mitigate my anger, he departed for France. Unable to endure his absence, when my passion abated, I determined on following him; but fate forbade it, and, by means of a menial wretch, has torn the fascinating joys of life from my grasp, and hurled destruction on my head!" She burst into tears. "All will soon be over, Harry!--I rejoiced when Corbet died: he loved you--and was beloved: but no one will sorrow or weep for me!" "Yes--yes, my mother!" said Sir Henry, "I will sorrow and weep for thee too!" "Lay me not, I charge you, Harry," she wildly continued, "by Corbet--my ashes must not mingle with his. No, no--in the vault by my father--there I shall rest in peace!" She sunk exhausted on her pillow. Sir Henry anxiously watched the changes of her countenance, whilst Mr. Talton, with pity, contemplated the wretched situation of a woman, he once thought the most perfect of her sex. A broken slumber shed a partial oblivion over her senses, and for some hours relieved her from the tortures of remembrance. She awoke more collected, and impatiently inquired if Louise were arrived? The rattling of a carriage round the spacious court, announced her approach, and in a few minutes the agitated Louise was pressed to the bosom of her mother! "Welcome, Louise!" murmured Lady Corbet.--"Child of affection, though thou hast never been regarded as such--yet I love thee now, Louise.--And art thou the husband of my child?" she continued to Harland.--"Then I will say thou too art welcome. Poor thou marriedst my Louise; I therefore believe thou dost love her; and let not the remembrance of her mother ever induce thee to slight or contemn her. Mine was the vice--be mine the shame: if aught can ever be reflected from Louise! But no--no; the virtues of my Louise, like the beams of the morning, shall rise superior to the darkness of her parents actions!--Dark, indeed!" she repeated, with a convulsive sigh.--"For we deserted thy infant innocence! Yet forgive me, Louise--curse not my memory; I will make thee rich amends for the injuries I have done thee!" "Name not injuries, my mother;" sobbed Louise; "all is rewarded by this moment of affection! My love, my duty shall prove me worthy of it."