and-by, and go back to the house. Why should I be surprised to see
her, when she is my constant companion? And do you think I shall not
know what to say?--I have talked to her all my life."

But when they had reached the house, and were admitted, this
half-hysterical courage had fled.

"One moment, dearest; give me one moment," she said, at the foot of the
stairs, as if her breath failed her, and she put her hand on his arm.

"Now, Natalie," he whispered, "you must think of your mother as an
invalid--not to be excited, you understand; there is to be no scene."

"Yes, yes," she said, but she scarcely heard him.

"Now go," he said, "and I will wait here."

"No, I wish you to come," she said.

"You ought to be alone with her."

"I wish you to come," she repeated; and she took his hand.

They went up-stairs; the door was wide open; a figure stood in the
middle of the room. Natalie entered first; she was very white, that was
all. It was the other woman who was trembling--trembling with anxious
fears, and forgetful of every one of the English phrases she had
learned.

The girl at the door hesitated but for a moment. Breathless, wondering,
she beheld this vision--worn as the face was, she recognized in it the
features she had learned to love; and there were the dark and tender
eyes she had so often held commune with when she was alone. It was only
because she was so startled that she thus hesitated; the next instant
she was in her mother's arms held tight there, her head against her
bosom.

Then the mother began, in her despair,

"My--my daughter--you--do--know me?"

But the girl, not looking up, murmured some few words in a language
Brand did not understand; and at the sound of them the mother uttered a
wild cry of joy, and drew her daughter closer to her, and laid her
streaming, worn, sad face on the beautiful hair. They spoke together in
that tongue; the sounds were soft and tender to the ear; perhaps it was
the yearning of love that made them so.

Then Natalie remembered her promise. She gently released herself; she
led her mother to a sofa, and made her sit down; she threw herself on
her knees beside her, and kissed her hand; then she buried her head in
her mother's lap. She sobbed once or twice; she was determined not to
give way to tears. And the mother stroked the soft hair of the girl,
which she could hardly see, for her eyes were full; and from time to
time she spoke to her in those gentle, trembling