Charles, however, cut short the amusement of the spectators by shutting the door, before the younger sisters had seen what was passing outside the room; and a few minutes passed in a sort of awkward silence between Victoria and Charles, although Mr. Duncan, ignorant of what had occurred, was comfortably talking to Mrs. Fielding. All thoughts of the visitors at that moment in the drawing-room had gone from Hilary’s head; she saw only her brother, and was conscious only of thankfulness to see him again, and a pang of sorrow for the one who could not see at all. After the first mute embraces, and then the whispered words of love and joy, Maurice pronounced his father’s name, and Hilary, half angry with herself for having even during that short time engrossed all the delight of knowing him safe and well, placed her hand in his, and led him into the room. Then she remembered who was there, and her color came and went: delight, shyness, pride, and embarrassment mingling in her feelings as she encountered the eyes within, and recalled how abruptly she had quitted them. The visitors drew back, and the exclamations of the girls, the movement, the unusual step, and a whisper or two around him, warned Mr. Duncan something had occurred. “What is it, Hilary?” said he, rising and stretching out his hand; “Maurice――my son!” as his fingers closed upon those which so warmly grasped his――“thank God!” But Maurice could not speak. The sight of his father’s helplessness, the closed eyes, the slow and cautious movement, and the increased appearance of age which the last three years had produced, overcame his fortitude, and the young man had to struggle hard with the emotions of tenderness and grief before he could control his voice to answer his father’s greeting. “Can we not go?” whispered Mrs. Fielding to Charles; “we are sadly in the way.” Victoria’s eyes were fixed on the group with a thoughtful, longing expression; but she felt the propriety of her mother’s proposal, and turned to quit the room. Hilary recollected herself and them, and advanced to accompany them to the door, while Maurice still saw nothing and no one but those so dear to him. “I am sorry you should be driven away,” said she, gracefully, “though I can not pretend to be sorry for the cause. He is my only brother.” “Do not apologize, my charming young friend,” replied Mrs. Fielding, with her gentle accents, “you must be glad to get rid of us, and I feel we have had a pleasure we do not deserve, in witnessing so captivating a family-picture. I congratulate you with my whole heart.”