yagers, and when the
steamer neared the land he was the first person who bounded upon the
deck. Bertha caught sight of him, and as she sprang forward and threw
herself into his arms, weeping with joy and heartily returning his warm
embrace, the countess and her son exchanged looks of exultation which
showed that they had not reflected upon the vast distinction between the
frank greeting of brother and sister, and the meeting of possible
lovers.

A slight, irrepressible shadow passed over the beaming countenance of
Maurice as he turned from Bertha to welcome his father and grandmother.
The cloud flitted by in an instant, and only betrayed that the past was
unforgotten; while the look of manly confidence and self-possession, by
which it was replaced, told that the present and the future could not be
subject to by-gone storms.

After the first salutations were over, the countess scanned Maurice from
head to foot, to note what changes had been wrought by his residence in
a country which she held in such supreme contempt. The slight curl and
quivering of the lip, which accompanied her survey, bespoke that it was
not entirely satisfactory. In the first place, his apparel displeased
her. The care that he had once bestowed upon his toilet betrayed a
slight leaning to the side of foppishness; _now_, his attire gave him
the air of a man of business, rather than of mere pleasure. His bearing
was more confident than in former days, his movements more rapid, his
tone more animated and decisive, his whole manner more energetic. His
face was slightly careworn, his brow had lost something of its unruffled
smoothness, and the fresh carnation tints had faded out of his
complexion; but the wealth of expression his countenance had gained
might atone for heavier losses. In repose, his features wore a shade of
habitual sadness; but that disappeared the moment he spoke, and was
rather an air of reflection than of sorrow. Indeed, all gloom had
vanished from his spirit soon after his arrival in America. The
hope-inspiring ministry of Ronald's mother, first and engrossing study,
and ceaseless occupation next, had effectually medicined his growing
melancholy. Maurice had not felt himself a homeless exile during his
four years' sojourn in a foreign land. The Chateau de Gramont was less
dear to him than the quiet, unpretentious, but affection-brightened home
where he was always welcomed as a son.

When his stately grandmother, after so long a se