Mrs. Withers was brought out into the ball-room; there, with tears and in broken accents, with every sign of terror and remorse, she soon made a full confession of her so long concealed guilt.

The strangers assembled to see our childish mimicry of passion, were witness to a highly wrought dramatic scene in real life.  I had intended they should see the curtain drop without any discovery of the deceit; unable to invent any new incident, I left the conclusion imperfect as I found it:  but they saw a more strict poetical justice done; they saw the rightful child restored to its parents, and the nurse overwhelmed with shame, and threatened with the severest punishment.

“Take this woman,” said sir Edward, “and lock her up, till she be delivered into the hands of justice.”

Ann, on her knees, implored mercy for her mother.—­Addressing the children who were gathered round her, “Dear ladies,” said she, “help me, on your knees help me to beg forgiveness for my mother.”  Down the young ones all dropped—­even lady Elizabeth bent her knee.  “Sir Edward, pity her distress.  Sir Edward, pardon her!” All joined in the petition, except one whose voice ought to have been loudest in the appeal.  No word, no accent came from me.  I hung over lady Harriot’s chair, weeping as if my heart would break; but I wept for my own fallen fortunes, not for my mother’s sorrow.

I thought within myself, if in the integrity of my heart, refusing to participate in this unjust secret, I had boldly ventured to publish the truth, I might have had some consolation in the praises which so generous an action would have merited:  but it is through the vanity of being supposed to have written a pretty story, that I have meanly broken my faith with my friend, and unintentionally proclaimed the disgrace of my mother and myself.  While thoughts like these were passing through my mind, Ann had obtained my mother’s pardon.  Instead of being sent away to confinement and the horrors of a prison, she was given by sir Edward into the care of the housekeeper, who had orders from lady Harriot to see her put to bed and properly attended to, for again this wretched woman had fallen into a fit.

Ann would have followed my mother, but sir Edward brought her back, telling her that she should see her when she was better.  He then led Ann towards lady Harriot, desiring her to embrace her child; she did so, and I saw her, as I had phrased it in the play, clasped in her mother’s arms.

This scene had greatly affected the spirits of lady Harriot; through the whole of it it was with difficulty she had been kept from fainting, and she was now led into the drawing-room by the ladies.  The gentlemen followed, talking with sir Edward of the astonishing instance of filial affection they had just seen in the earnest pleadings of the child for her supposed mother.

Ann too went with them, and was conducted by her whom I had always considered as my own particular friend.  Lady Elizabeth took hold of her hand, and said, “Miss Lesley, will you permit me to conduct you to the drawing-room?”