Mrs. Marley drew back, a spike as of ice pierced her heart. For a moment she said nothing. Before her rose a blue vapour, like wood smoke, and the lights died away to mere sparks. She was about to see him, after a lapse of many years, whom she had once loved with her passionate heart, but now abhorred; the man who had desolated her life and now proposed to render it absolutely desert by bereaving her of her child. It was as though a vast gulf opened before her, and she looked across it at the man who had once been so near to her――the gulf of time that had swallowed up her youth and all her happiness. She could dimly perceive in the haze a middle-aged man, spruce, with hair curled and shining, high white collars, and a spotless neckcloth, a cream silk uncrumpled waistcoat, and a face bland, with a fine complexion. Slowly, as from a swoon, she rallied. It was the pressure on her arm of the maid's hand that recovered her and brought her back from the region of dream. 'There, there!' She saw before her a beautiful girl, with low dress and bare arms, gloved hands, in white, with no other colour about her than a rose in her hair and a coral and gold necklet――a girl, lovely, far surpassing all that Jane could have imagined. A cry of joy; and, in a moment―― 'Mother! mother!' She was clasped in the arms of this girl, her burning cheeks were kissed, and she was enveloped in a cloud of white muslin, and in an atmosphere of heliotrope. Jane Marley hastily disengaged herself and thrust Winefred aside. She looked about her with flashing eye, and had reared herself proudly. A circle had formed around them, a second ring was behind, composed of others looking over the shoulders of those in the first row, then again others, packing in from behind――a circle, a mass, a rising wave of faces and forms, beaux with eyeglasses lifted, ladies in ball dresses, fans fluttering. The orchestra had ceased. The drift was through the vestibule to the tea-room. There were curiosity, malice, surprise in every face. Jane looked from one to another. 'It is not true,' she said slowly, distinctly, deliberately. 'I am _not_ her mother. I am her old nurse. I am nothing but the nurse. But she has a good heart, a heart of gold, and she loves me. Look at me, then look at her. It is her condescension to stoop to such as me. I thank you, miss. I am obleeged for the flattering recognition.' 'For mercy's sake, not a scene!' exclaimed Jesse Jones, thrusting herself through the ring. 'Here, quick. Into this little room; it is empty. You obstruct the promenaders.' And with tact and energy, the girl pressed Winefred, her father and Mrs. Marley into a small apartment, shut the door, and planted herself without as a guard. Then with a laugh Jesse said to those who looked and whispered and wondered, 'The old goodie is delighted to see the child she nursed. Give them leave a while. It will be a dream of delight for the woman's after-life. Pray move on.'