with fervour, "for bringing
me here, and removing me from those dreadful sights and sounds, that
would have driven me distracted, even if I had been in my right mind.
And how much I owe _you_, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and
attention. Without you I should never have recovered either health or
reason. I can never be grateful enough. But, though _I_ cannot reward
you, Heaven will."

"Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred,
controlling her emotion, and speaking as cheerfully as she could; "I
would do anything in the world for you, and so would my father, and so
would Thames; but he _ought_, for he's your nephew, you know. We all
love you dearly."

"Bless you! bless you!" cried Mrs. Sheppard, averting her face to hide
her tears.

"I mustn't tell you what Thames means to do for you if ever he gains his
rights," continued Winifred; "but I _may_ tell you what my father means
to do."

"He has done too much already," answered the widow. "I shall need little
more."

"But, _do_ hear what it is," rejoined Winifred; "you know I'm shortly to
be united to your nephew,--that is," she added, blushing, "when he can
be married by his right name, for my father won't consent to it before."

"Your father will never oppose your happiness, my dear, I'm sure," said
Mrs. Sheppard; "but, what has this to do with me?"

"You shall hear," replied Winifred; "when this marriage takes place, you
and I shall be closely allied, but my father wishes for a still closer
alliance."

"I don't unterstand you," returned Mrs. Sheppard.

"To be plain, then," said Winifred, "he has asked me whether I have any
objection to you as a mother."

"And what--what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly.

"Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck.
"That he couldn't choose any one so agreeable to me."

"Winifred," said Mrs. Sheppard, after a brief pause, during which she
appeared overcome by her feelings,--she said, gently disengaging herself
from the young girl's embrace, and speaking in a firm voice, "you must
dissuade your father from this step."

"How?" exclaimed the other. "Can you not love him?"

"Love him!" echoed the widow. "The feeling is dead within my breast. My
only love is for my poor lost son. I can esteem him, regard him; but,
love him as he _ought_ to be loved--that I cannot do."

"Your esteem is all he will require," urged Winifred.

"He has it, and will eve