What could Henry say to comfort his mother? Nothing. And he remained silent.
Long after this, Mrs. Darlington, with Henry and Edith, were sitting together in painful suspense. No word had been spoken by either for the space of nearly an hour. The clock struck ten.
"I would give worlds to see my dear, dear child!" murmured Mrs. Darlington.
Just then a carriage drove up to the door and stopped. Henry sprang down stairs; but neither Edith nor her mother could move from where they sat. As the former opened the street door, Miriam stood with her uncle on the threshold. Henry looked at her earnestly and tenderly for an instant, and then, staggering back, leaned against the wall for support.
"Where is your mother?" asked Mr. Ellis.
"In her own room," said Henry, in a voice scarcely audible.
Miriam sprang up the stairs with the fleetness of an antelope, and, in a few moments, was sobbing on her mother's bosom.
"Miriam! Miriam!" said Mrs. Darlington, in a thrilling voice, "do you return the same as when you left?"
"Yes, thank God!" came from the maiden's lips.
"Thank God! thank God!" responded the mother, wildly. "Oh, my child, what a fearful misery you have escaped!"