“This afternoon, and Tillinghast claimed me at once, telling me that I should meet you here,” Dr. Winthrop explained for the benefit of her companion, who, he thought, might wonder why he had not sought his mother first. She introduced him then to the gentleman, who was a well-known and successful artist, and who, after conversing for a few moments, politely excused himself, and left the mother and son together. Madam noticed at once that there was a great change in him—his manner was more animated, his face brighter and happier; there was in his tones a glad ring which she had not heard for years, while instead of those sternly compressed lines about his mouth, which had troubled her so long, his lips were constantly wreathed with genial smiles. “Why have you come upon us so suddenly, True?—why did you not write and let us know when to expect you?” she asked, after the artist had left them. “I have been very much engaged,” he replied evasively, but with a glow upon his face that made her marvel. “Now that you are here, you will remain through the winter with us, will you not?” she asked wistfully. “Perhaps—that will depend upon circumstances, however,” he answered. “What circumstances?” she queried archly. “Does that mean if your wife is willing to remain in Rome?” “Yes,” he gravely returned, but knowing well enough that she would interpret his reply far differently from what he meant. Then he added: “Take my arm, mother, and let us get out of the crowd. I want to talk with you alone.” She obeyed him, flushing with triumph as they passed from the room. At last her fondest hopes were to be realized—at last the Rochester-Hamilton fortunes would be united, and life henceforth would be _couleur de rose_ for her. Alas! she had no idea of the humiliation which the consummation of these anticipations would bring upon her. “Do you really mean it, True?” she asked, in a glad low tone, as they reached the conservatory leading from the rear of the grand hall, “that you are ready to marry Sadie Rochester at last?” “When I leave Rome my wife will accompany me,” he remarked, while he tried to think of the best way to break the truth to her. “That will be delightful! Does Sadie know—is it all settled between you?” and the woman’s joyous face was a study. “Yes, Sadie Rochester is already my wife,” he announced with startling abruptness. “Truman! What—what can you mean?” madam exclaimed, amazed, as she anxiously searched his face. “Just what I have said, mother.” “You must be crazy then, True, unless you have been married since eight o’clock, for I left Sadie dressing for this reception when I came from home, and apparently the thought of your presence in the city had not entered her mind. I wish you would not joke upon the subject,” madam concluded, in a displeased tone.