will not describe this restoration of the widow's son. Our readers
can easily conceive it, and, accordingly, to their imagination we will
leave it.

It was attended, however, by an incident which we cannot pass over
without some notice. Lady Emily, on witnessing the extraordinary turn
which had so providentially taken place in the fate and fortune of
her lover, was observed by Mrs. Mainwaring to grow very pale. A
consciousness of injury, which our readers will presently understand,
prevented her from offering assistance, but running over to Lucy, she
said, "I fear, Miss Gourlay, that Lady Emily is ill."

Lucy, who was all tenderness, left her brother, over whom she had been
weeping, and flew to her assistance just in time to prevent her from
falling off her chair. She had swooned. Water, however, and essences,
and other appliances, soon restored her; and on recovering she cast her
eyes about the room as if to search for some one. Lady Gourlay had her
arm round her, and was chafing her temples at the time. Those lovely
fawn-like eyes of hers had not far to search. Roberts, now young Sir
Edward Gourlay, had been standing near, contemplating her beautiful
features, and deeply alarmed by her illness, when their eyes met; and,
to the surprise of Lucy Gourlay, a blush so modest, so beautiful, so
exquisite, but yet so legible in its expression, took place of the
paleness which had been there before. She looked up, saw the direction
of her son's eyes, then looked significantly at Lucy, and smiled. The
tell-tale blush, in fact, discovered the state of their hearts, and
never was a history of pure and innocent love more appropriately or
beautifully told.

This significant little episode did not last long; and when Lady Emily
found herself recovered, Thomas Corbet advanced, and said: "I don't know
what you mean, father, by saying that the young man who has just
died was Sir Thomas Gourlay's son. You know in your heart that
this"--pointing to his nephew--"is his true and legitimate heir. You
know, too, that his illegitimate son has been dead for years, and that I
myself saw him buried."

"My lord, pay attention to what I'll speak," said his father. "If the
bastard died, and if my son was at his burial, and saw him laid in the
grave, he can tell us where that grave is to be found, at least. His
father, however, will remember the tattooing."

The unexpected nature of the question, and its direct bearing upon the
circumstance be