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Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. She entered the last room, his bedroom.
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