in London, to prove she would not
learn, when all around her was so changed.

"Surely, surely, Caroline, surrounded by gaiety as she is, cannot be as
happy as I am to-night," burst with wild glee from the lips of Emmeline,
as at about half-past ten o'clock her father kissed her glowing cheek,
and thanked her for the pleasing recreation she had given him. She had
scarcely spoken, when a carriage was heard driving somewhat rapidly
through the Square, then stopped, it appeared at their door, and a
thundering and truly aristocratic rap resounded, startling not a little
the inmates of that peaceful drawing-room.

"Who can it be at this hour?" demanded Emmeline, in an accent of
bewilderment. "How very disagreeable. I did not wish any intrusion
to-night. Mamma, dear mamma, you look terrified."

Mr. Hamilton had opened the drawing-room door, and was about to descend
the stairs, for he too was startled at this unusual visit; but he
turned at Emmeline's words, for his wife did not usually indulge in
unfounded alarm or anticipated fears, but at that instant her wonted
presence of mind appeared about to desert her; she was pale as marble,
and had started up in an attitude of terror.

Voices were heard, and stops, well-known steps, ascending the stairs.

"It is the Duchess of Rothbury's voice and step--my child!" burst from
her lips, in an accent that neither Emmeline nor Ellen ever could
forget, and she sunk back almost fainting on her seat. Her children flew
to her side in alarm, but ere a minute had passed away that wild anxiety
was calmed, for Caroline herself entered with the Duchess, but her
death-like cheek, blanched lip, and haggard eye told a tale of suffering
which that mother could not mark unmoved. Vainly Mrs. Hamilton strove to
rise and welcome the Duchess: she had no power to move from her chair.

"Caroline, my child!" were the only words her faltering tongue could
utter; and that agonized voice thrilled through the heart of the now
truly unhappy girl, and roused her from that trance of overwhelming
emotion which bade her stand spell-bound at the threshold. She sprung
forward, and sinking at her mother's feet, buried her face in her robe.

"Mother, my injured mother, oh, do not, do not hate me!" she murmured,
in a voice almost inarticulate. "I deserve to be cast from your love, to
lose your confidence for ever. I have deceived you--I--" Sobs choked her
utterance, and the grieving mother could only throw her arms