Graham entered.

The sound of the well-known footstep disturbed the soaring thoughts of
both, and the flush of excitement which had mounted into Emily's cheeks
subsided into more than her wonted paleness as Philip, rising slowly
from her side, stood face to face with her father.

Mr. Graham approached with the scrutinizing air of one called upon to
greet a visitor who, though an apparent stranger, may possibly have
claims to recognition, and glanced at his daughter as if hoping she
would relieve the awkwardness by an introduction. But the agitated Emily
maintained perfect silence, and every feature of Philip's countenance
remained immovable as Mr. Graham slowly came forward.

He had advanced within one step of the spot where Philip stood waiting
to receive him, when, struck by the stern look and attitude of the
latter, he stopped short, gazed one moment into the eagle eyes of his
step-son, then staggered, grasped at the mantel-piece, and would have
fallen, but Philip, starting forward, helped him to his arm-chair. And
yet no word was spoken. At length Mr. Graham, who, having fallen into
the seat, sat still gazing into the face of Mr. Amory, ejaculated in a
tone of wondering excitement, "Philip Amory! Oh, my God!"

"Yes, father," exclaimed Emily, suddenly rising and grasping her
father's arm; "it is Philip; he whom we have so long believed among the
dead, restored to us in health and safety!"

Mr. Graham rose from his chair and, leaning heavily on Emily's shoulder,
again approached Mr. Amory, who, with folded arms, stood fixed as
marble. His step tottered with a feebleness never before observable in
the sturdy frame of the old man, and the hand which he extended to
Philip was marked by an unusual tremulousness. But Philip did not offer
to receive the proffered hand, or reply by word to the rejected
salutation.

Mr. Graham turned towards Emily and, forgetting that this neglect was
shut from her sight, exclaimed half-bitterly, half-sadly, "I cannot
blame him! God knows I wronged the boy!"

"Wronged him!" cried Philip, in a voice almost fearful. "Yes, wronged
him, indeed! Blighted his life, crushed his youth, half broke his heart,
and wholly blighted his reputation!"

"No," exclaimed Mr. Graham, who had quailed beneath these accusations,
until he reached the final one; "not that, Philip!--not that! I never
harmed you there; I discovered my error before I had doomed you to
infamy in the eyes of one of your fellow-