ation very readily. But with Zillah it was different. Rightly
or wrongly, she considered her secret a thing which should be guarded
like her heart's blood; and now she saw suddenly before her the
certainty of a full and grand disclosure--a disclosure, too, not
merely in the presence of Obed Chute, but of Windham also. Yet even
this fear, terrible as it would have been at other times, was
successfully mastered, and her generous and loving nature turned away
from selfish fears, with longing and joy and pity, to this dear old
friend; and these feelings, mingling together at that sudden sight,
drove away all others.

But now to these succeeded a new surprise, which was overwhelming.
For just as she started, in obedience to her impulse, she saw Lord
Chetwynde hurry forward. She saw Mrs. Hart's eyes fixed on him in a
kind of ecstasy. She saw her totter forward, with all her face
overspread with a joy that is but seldom known---known only in rare
moments, when some lost one, loved and lost--some one more precious
than life itself--is suddenly found. She saw Lord Chetwynde hurry
forward. She saw Mrs. Hart run toward him, and with a low moan, a
longing, yearning cry, fling herself upon his breast and clasp him in
her arms.

She heard her words--words wonderful, thrilling, and beyond all
understanding:

"Oh, my boy! Oh, my own! Oh, Guy! Oh, my little boy! Oh, my darling!
My God! I thank Thee for this joy!"

Uttering such broken ejaculations Mrs. Hart burst into a passion of
tears, and only Lord Chetwynde's strong arms prevented her from
falling.

He upheld her. He kissed her. He murmured words of affection, deep
and tender and true. With gentle urgency lie drew her to a sofa, made
her sit down by his side, and placed her head against his breast, and
took her emaciated hands in his. He seemed to have forgotten the
presence of others in that sudden, that overwhelming feeling of
compassion for his aged, his heart-broken nurse. He was unconscious
even of Zillah. In that moment his whole soul and his whole heart
were turned to this wan face that leaned against his breast.

He said very little. How could he say much? A few attempts at
soothing her--a few loving words--these were all. And these were
enough; for better than these was the love that was expressed in his
strong embrace--the love that sustained her now, and changed despair
into rapture.

"My dearest," he said--"dearest old nurse--nurse! mamma! Don't grieve
now. Co