d, as she made her way into the interior
of the house: 'where is the Earl of Wistonbury?'

In a moment after the Earl of Wistonbury, who had heard and instantly
recognized his mother's voice, was before her, and was about to rush
into her arms, when she haughtily thrust him back, saying--

'Degraded, spiritless boy, dare not too approach me! You have blotted
the noblest, the proudest scutcheon of England. Where is Professor
Lockerby?'

The professor was by her side before she had completed the sentence,
when, seeing her agitation--

'My good lady,' he said, in his most persuasive tone, 'do allow me to
entreat of you to be composed, and to have the honour of conducting you
up stairs.'

'Anywhere!--anywhere, professor!' exclaimed the countess; 'but, alas! go
where I will, I cannot escape the misery of my own thoughts, nor the
disgrace which my unworthy son has brought upon my head.'

Without making any reply to this outburst of passionate feeling, the
professor took the countess respectfully by the hand, and silently
conducted her to his drawing-room. With stately step the countess
entered, and walked slowly to the further end of the apartment; this
gained, she turned round, and, when she had done so, a sight awaited her
for which she was but little prepared. This was her son and Jessy
Flowerdew, kneeling side by side, and, by their attitude, eloquently
imploring her forgiveness. It was just one of those sights best
calculated to work on the nobler nature of the Countess of Wistonbury,
and to call up the finer feelings of her generous heart. For some
seconds she looked at the kneeling pair in silent astonishment; her eye,
however, chiefly fixed on the beauteous countenance of Jessy Flowerdew,
pale with terror and emotion, and wet with tears. Having gazed for some
time on this extraordinary sight, without betraying the slightest
symptom of the feelings beyond that of surprise, with which it had
inspired her, the countess slowly advanced towards the kneeling couple.
She still, however, uttered no word, and discovered no emotion; but a
sudden change had come over her proud spirit. That spirit was now laid,
and its place occupied by all the generous impulses of her nature.
Keeping her eye steadily fixed on the kneeling fair one before her, she
approached her, paused a moment, extended her hand, placed it on the
ivory forehead of Jessy Flowerdew, gently laid back her rich auburn
hair, and, as she did so, said, in a trem