Once more I looked at my mother-in-law. Once more the name failed
to produce the slightest effect on her. Her sight was not so keen
as ours; she had not recognized her son yet. He had young eyes
like us, and he recognized his mother. For a mome nt he stopped
like a man thunderstruck. Then he came on--his ruddy face white
with suppressed emotion, his eyes fixed on his mother.

"You here!" he said to her.

"How do you do, Eustace?" she quietly rejoined. "Have _you_ heard
of your aunt's illness too? Did you know she was staying at
Ramsgate?"

He made no answer. The landlady, drawing the inevitable inference
from the words that she had just heard, looked from me to my
mother-in-law in a state of amazement, which paralyzed even her
tongue. I waited with my eyes on my husband, to see what he would
do. If he had delayed acknowledging me another moment, the whole
future course of my life might have been altered--I should have
despised him.

He did _not_ delay. He came to my side and took my hand.

"Do you know who this is?" be said to his mother.

She answered, looking at me with a courteous bend of her head:

"A lady I met on the beach, Eustace, who kindly restored to me a
letter that I dropped. I think I heard the name" (she turned to