The rebel officer entered the hall first, but, alas! behind
him came, guarded by two soldiers, Edmund Woodley himself, his step
firm, his head erect, and his hands unbound. His mother sank back in
her chair, and he, going straight up to her, knelt on one knee before
her, saying, "Mother, dear mother, your blessing. Let me see your
face again."
She threw her arms round his neck, "My son! and is it thus we meet?"
"We only meet as we parted," he answered firmly and cheerfully.
"Still sufferers in the same good cause; still, I trust, with the
same willing hearts."
"Come, sir," said the officer, "I must see you safely bestowed for
the night."
"One moment, gentlemen," entreated Lady Woodley. "It is six years
since I saw my son, and this may be our last meeting." She led him
to the light, and looked earnestly up into his face, saying, with a
smile, which had in it much of pride and pleasure, as well as
sadness, "How you are altered, Edmund! See, Rose, how brown he is,
and how much darker his hair has grown; and does not his moustache
make him just like your father?"
"And my little sisters," said Edmund. "Ha! Lucy, I know your little
round face."
"Oh," sobbed Lucy, "is it my fault? Can you pardon me? The pigeon
pie!"
"What does she mean?" asked Edmund, turning to Rose.
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