d their animation, the winder stopped from
her occupation, the writer raised a pale and care-worn face, each
advanced to the door as it opened to admit the grey-headed Father. He
bore a packet of letters, but his face was mournful as he said, "No,
none from them." "Alas, alas," said the sorrowful Mother, sinking back
into her chair, "what are we to think? I see, I see, all this heap of
letters, and not one contains the news we pine for. They are only
repetitions of what we have already had; anxious enquiries from still
more anxious parents, painful to read, still more painful to answer. I
cannot read them, I cannot bear them in my sight." As they tried to
comfort her, rapid wheels and fast-trotting horses' feet were heard, and
the next minute a carriage with four breathless and smoking horses
turned into the drive, and stood at the front door. Before they had
stopped, a gentleman sprung from the carriage and bounded up stairs in a
minute, his figure being concealed in a travelling cloak. As he raised
his hat, he shewed the fine bald head and handsome countenance of Sir
Walter Mayton. The aged father raised one hand, the sorrowful mother
clasped the other, as they exclaimed, "What news, what news. Have you
heard of our lost ones?" He could not bring himself to speak the
negative that his sorrowful shake of the hand indicated, but another
person was behind him, having come in the same carriage. Who could
mistake that kind and loving face, the noble features so handsome in
their regularity, so beneficent, so benign, the snow-white hair, the
merry kind blue eye, the upright figure. The weeping Mother threw
herself into his arms. "Don't cry, don't cry, my dear Emily," said he,
the tears rolling down his rich ruddy cheek, "we shall find them again.
We will go in search of them. Remember, I too am a sufferer. Have I not
lost my right hand, the sunbeam of my house, my sweet, little,
mischievous, pretty, fidgety Gatty," and he raised his eyes reverently
to heaven, as if to invoke a blessing on his lost child; and this was
Gatty's Father, who had left his court, and had come down purposely with
Sir Walter Mayton to consult on the best mode of discovering the lost
party, and taking the advice of all those nearly and dearly interested
in them.

"Now," said Sir Walter Mayton, seeing that the painfulness of the
meeting was nearly over, "now let us proceed to business. First of all,
will you allow me to ring the bell for some dinner,