This it was impossible not to see--not to feel.

But the warning which her aspect gave passed as she spoke and said in tones a little tremulous, perhaps, but with an air of perfect courtesy: "I had hoped to see Mrs.Roberts herself." The smile with which this was greeted, the flush of pride and the joy of possession which lit the other's pleasing features as she replied, "I am Mrs.Roberts," should have carried the truth to Ermentrude.
But they did not.

She looked surprised--baffled, and after the briefest hesitation, observed: "I am a stranger in this city and have doubtless made some mistake.

The Mrs.Roberts I have called to see--and I was told she lived here--is the mother of a gentleman of the name of----" She could not speak it.
But the other could.
"Carleton ?" she asked; and at Ermentrude's agitated nod, added with friendly interest: "This is her home; but she has left it for a while to us.

I am Mr.Carleton Roberts' wife." * * * * * There are blows which prostrate; there are others which sear but leave the body intact--feet still supporting it--eyes still gazing ahead unmoved--lips moving with mechanical exactness and sometimes still retaining their smile.