In another moment Amanda permitted her mother to lead her as that
mother had been wont to lead her when the warm, strong hand of the
parent was a guiding touch--a magnet of love amid the dangers of
an early life--and when, as now, there was but one shelter of
safety--the home.

No sooner did the two women stand in the light and warmth of the
kitchen-hearth, than the elder fell on the neck of the younger,
and kissed the cold, rain-washed face of her child, with a love
grown fierce by years of hopeless hope and unrequited longing.
Once again those arms, thin and weak with age, grew strong; and in
the resurrection of a mighty passion, all the old womanhood and
motherhood of the parent renewed their youth, and filled out the
shrunken and decrepit form until she stood majestic in the
strength of heaven. To those who had been wont to see Amanda's
mother bent and crushed with years and sorrow, the woman that now
stood in the firelight would not have been recognised as Mrs.
Stott. Once the fairest and most lithesome girl in Rehoboth, the
pride of the village, the sought of many suitors, the proud wife
of Sam Stott of th' Clowes, and the still prouder mother of
Amanda, who matched her alike in beauty and in sprightliness, she
had long been a prey to the sling and arrows of outrageous
fortune. Years had played sad havoc with her, her money taking
wings, her husband dying, and her last hope failing in the hour of
need. Now she was herself again under the renewing hand of love.

As soon as Amanda recovered from the shock of her mother's
appearance, and felt the warmth of her welcome, she gently, yet
determinately, released herself and cried: