Next encountering Anne, he begged her to go to his mother and guard her from any alarm, until there was some certainty.

"Can't we send all these people away?" she asked.

"Not yet. We had better make no unnecessary disturbance. There will be time enough if anything be amiss. I am going down to Hazlitt's Gate."

Anne was too late. Charlie had not outgrown the instinct of rushing to his mother with his troubles; and he was despairingly telling the report he had heard of a direful catastrophe, fatal to an unknown quantity of passengers, while she, strong and composed because he gave way, was trying to sift his intelligence. No sooner did he hear from Anne that Julius was going to the station, than he started up to accompany him--the best thing he could do in his present state. Hardly, however, had he closed the door, before he returned with fresh tears in his eyes, leading in Eleonora Vivian, whom he had found leaning against the wall outside, white and still, scarce drawing her breath.

"Come," he said; and before she knew what he was doing, she was at Mrs. Poynsett's side. "Here, mother," he said, "take her." And he was gone.

Mrs. Poynsett stretched out her arms. The hearts of the two women who loved Frank could not help meeting. Eleonora sank on her knees, hiding her face on the mother's breast, with two tender arms clasped round her.

Anne was kneeling too, but she was no longer the meek, shy stranger.

Now, in the hour of trouble, she poured forth, in a voice fervent and sweet, a prayer for protection and support for their beloved one, so that it might be well with him, whatever might be his Heavenly Father's Will.

As she paused, Mrs. Poynsett, in a choked voice, said, "Thank you, dear child;" when there were steps in the hall. Anne started up, Lenore buried her face on Mrs. Poynsett's bosom, the mother clasped her hands over her convulsively, then beheld, as the door opened, a tall figure, with a dark bright face full of ineffable softness and joy. Frank himself, safe and sound, with his two brothers behind him. They stayed not to speak, but hastened to spread the glad tidings; while he flung himself down, including both his mother and Lenore in one rapturous embrace, and carrying his kiss from one to the other--conscious, if no one else was, that this first seal of his love was given in his mother's arms.

Lenore did indeed extricate herself, and stand up as rosy red as she had been pale; but she had no room for any thought beyond his mother's trembling "Not hurt, my dear?"

"Not hurt! Not a scratch! Thank God! Oh! thank God!" answered Frank, quivering all over with thankfulness, though probably far more at the present joy than the past peril.

"Yes--oh, thanks for His mercy!" echoed Anne, giving fervent hand and tearful cheek to the eager salutation, which probably would have been as energetic to Clio or old Betty at that moment!

"But there's blood on your wristband," cried the mother. "You are hurt!"

"No; it's not mine. I didn't know it. It is from the poor fellow I helped to carry into the public-house at Knoll, just this side Backsworth, a good deal hurt, I'm afraid. Something had got on the lines, I believe. I was half asleep, and knew nothing till I found ourselves all crushed up together in the dark, upside-down, my feet above my head. There was but one man in my carriage, and we didn't get foul of one another, and found we were all right, when we scrambled out of the window. So we helped out the others, and found that, besides the engineer and stoker--who I don't suppose can live, poor fellows!--there was only this man much damaged. Then, when there seemed no more to be done, I took my bag and walked across country, to reach home before you heard. But oh, this is worth anything!"

He had to bend down for another embrace from his mother whose heart was very full as she held his bright young healthful face between her hands, though all she said was, "You have walked eleven miles and more! You must be half starved!--Anne, my dear, pray let him have something. He can eat it here."

"I'll see," said Anne, hastening away.

"Oh, don't go, Lenore," cried Frank, springing up. "Stay, I've not seen you!--Mother, how sweet of you! But I forgot! You don't know!

I was only waiting till I was through."

"I understand, my dear boy."

"But how? How did you find out? Was it only that you knew she was the precious darling of my heart? and now you see and own why,"

cries Frank, almost beside himself with excitement and delight.

"It was Lady Tyrrell who told me," said Mrs. Poynsett, sympathizing too much with the lovers to perceive that her standpoint of resistance was gone from her.

"Yes," said Lenore. "She knew of our walk, and questioned me so closely that I could not conceal anything without falsehood."

"After she met me at Aucuba Villa?" asked Frank.

"Yes. Did you tell her anything?"

"I thought she knew more than I found afterwards that she did," said Frank; "but there's no harm done. It is all coming now."

"She told my father," said Eleonora, sadly, "and he cannot understand our delay. He is grieved and displeased, and thinks I have not been open with him."

"Oh! that will be all right to-morrow," said Frank. "I'll have it out with a free heart, now there's no fear but that I have passed; and I've got the dearest of mothers! I feel as if I could meet him if he were a dozen examiners rolled into one, instead of the good old benevolent parent that he is! Ha! Anne--Susan--Jenkins--thank you--that's splendid! May I have it here? Super-excellent! Only here's half the clay-pit sticking to me! Let me just run up and make myself decent. Only don't let her run away."

Perhaps Clio would have scorned the instinct that made a Charnock unable to enjoy a much-needed meal in the presence of mother and of love till the traces of the accident and the long walk had been removed. His old nurse hurried after--ostensibly to see that his linen was at hand, but really to have her share of the petting and congratulation; and Lenore stood a little embarrassed, till Mrs.

Poynsett held out her arms, with the words, "My dear child!" and again she dropped on her knee by the couch, and nestled close in thankful joy.

Presently however, she raised herself, and said sadly, almost coldly, "I am afraid you have been surprised into this."

"I must love one who so loves my boy," was the ardent answer.

"I couldn't help it!" said the maiden, again abandoning herself to the tenderness. "Oh! it is so good of you!"

"My dear, dear daughter!"

"Only please give me one mother's kiss! I have so longed for one."

"Poor motherless child! My sweet daughter!"

Then after a pause Eleonora said, "Indeed, I'll try to deserve better; but oh! pray forgive me, if I cost him much more pain and patience than I am worth."

"He thinks you well worth anything, and perhaps I do," said Mrs Poynsett, who was conquered, won over, delighted more than by either of the former brides, in spite of all antecedents.

"Then will you always trust me?" said Eleonora, with clasped hands, and a wondrous look of earnest sincerity on her grave open brow and beautiful pensive dark blue eyes.

"I _must_, my dear."

"And indeed I don't think I could help holding to _him_, because he seems my one stay and hope here; and now I know it is all right with you, indeed it is such happiness as I never knew."

She laid her head down again in subdued joy and rest: but the pause was broken by Frank's return; and a moment after, in darted the Peri in her pink cashmere costume, with a glow transforming her usually colourless face. "Dear, dear Frank, I'm so glad!" she cried, bestowing her kiss; while he cried in amazement, "Is it Rose? Is there a fancy ball?"

"Only Aladdin's Cave. I'm just out of it; and while Jenny is keeping up games, and Edith is getting up a charade, I could dash in to see that Frank was all there, and more too. The exam, is safe, eh?"

"I trust so," said Frank; "the list will not come just yet; but I am told I am certain of a pass--indeed, that I stand high as to numbers."

"That's noble!--Now, Mrs. Poynsett, turn him out as soon as he has eaten his dinner. We want any one who can keep up a respectable kind of a row. I say, will you two do Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess? You look just like it."

"Must we go?" asked Frank, reluctantly; and there was something in the expression of his face, a little paler than usual, that reminded his mother that the young man had for the first time seen sudden and violent death that day, and that though his present gladness was so great, yet that he had gone through too much in body and mind for the revels of the evening not either to jar, or to produce a vehement reaction, if he were driven into them. So she answered by pleading the eleven miles' walk; and the queen of the sports was merciful, adding, "But I must be gone, or Terry will be getting up his favourite tableau of the wounded men of Clontarf, or Rothesay, or the Black Bull's Head, or some equally pleasing little incident."

"Is it going on well?" asked Mrs. Poynsett.

"Sweetly! Couldn't be better. They have all amalgamated and are in the midst of the 'old family coach,' with Captain Duncombe telling the story. He is quite up to the trick, and enjoys turning the tables on his ladies."

"And Camilla?" asked Lenore, in a hesitating, anxious tone

"Oh! she's gone in for it. I think she is the springs! I heard her ask where you were, and Charley told her; so you need not be afraid to stay in peace, if you have a turn that way. Good-bye; you'd laugh to see how delighted people are to be let off the lecture."

And she bent over Lenore with a parting kiss, full of significance of congratulation.

She returned, after changing her dress, to find a pretty fairy tableau, contrived by the Bowater sisters, in full progress, and delighting the children and the mothers. Lady Vivian contrived to get a word with her as she returned.

"Beautifully managed, Lady Rosamond. I tell Cecil she should enjoy a defeat by such strategy."