Hardly knowing whither he went, Lord Earle entered, and it was closed behind him.

His eyes, dimmed with tears, saw a tall, stately lady, who advanced to meet him with open arms.
The face he remembered so fair and calm bore deep marks of sorrow; the proud, tender eyes were shadowed; the glossy hair was threaded with silver; but it was his mother's voice that cried to him, "My son, my son, thank Heaven you have returned!" He never remembered how long his mother held him clasped in her arms.
Earth has no love like a mother's love--none so tender, so true, so full of sweet wisdom, so replete with pity and pardon.

It was her own son whom Lady Earle held in her arms.

She forgot that he was a man who had incurred just displeasure.

He was her boy, her own treasure, and so it was that her words of greeting were all of loving welcome.
"How changed you are," she said, drawing him nearer to the fast-fading light.