erstood that there should be no visitors
of any kind at Folking, and it had been thought that Mr. Smirkie had
forced an entrance in an impertinent manner. But yet it was not possible
to send Mrs. Bolton from her own daughter's door with a mere 'not at
home.' Of course she was shown in,--and was taken to the parlour, in
which the lunch was prepared, while word was taken up to Hester
announcing that her mother was there.

Mr. Caldigate was in the house,--in his own book-room, as it used to be
called,--and Hester went to him first. 'Mamma is here,--in the
dining-room.'

'Your mother!'

'I long to see mamma.'

'Of course you do.'

'But she will want me to go away with her.'

'She cannot take you unless you choose to go.'

'But she will speak of nothing else. I know it. I wish she had not
come.'

'Surely, Hester, you can make her understand that your mind is made up.'

'Yes, I shall do that. I must do that. But, father, it will be very
painful. You do not know what things she can say. It nearly killed me
when I was at the Grange. You will not see her, I suppose?'

'If you wish it, I will. She will not care to see me; and as things are
at present, what room is there for friendship?'

'You will come if I send for you?'

'Certainly. If you send for me I will come at once.'

Then she crept slowly out of the room, and very slowly and very silently
made her way to the parlour-door. Though she was of a strong nature,
unusually strong of heart and fixed of purpose, now her heart misgave
her. That terrible struggle, with all its incidents of weariness and
agony, was present to her mind. Her mother could not turn the lock on
her now; but, as she had said, it would be very dreadful. Her mother
would say words to her which would go through her like swords. Then she
opened the door, and for a moment there was the sweetness of an embrace.
There was a prolonged tenderness in the kiss which, even to Mrs. Bolton,
had a charm for the moment to soften her spirit. 'Oh, mamma; my own
mamma!'

'My child!'

'Yes, mamma;--every day when I pray for you I tell myself that I am
still your child,--I do.'

'My only one! my only one!--all that I have!' Then again they were in
each other's arms. Yet, when they had last met, one had been the jailer,
and the other the prisoner; and they had fought it out between them with
a determined obstinacy which at moments had almost amounted to hatred.
But now the very memory of these sad hours i