There were still the two men coopering at the vats, but she did not stay to speak to them.  She went through the big gates, and along the slanting path to the door, not doubting of her way, for Mr Glascock had described it all to her, making a small plan of the premises, and even explaining to her the position of the room in which her boy and her husband slept.  She found the door open, and an Italian maid-servant at once welcomed her to the house, and assured her that the signor would be with her immediately.  She was sure that the girl knew that she was the boy’s mother, and was almost tempted to ask questions at once as to the state of the household; but her knowledge of Italian was slight, and she felt that she was so utterly a stranger in the land that she could dare to trust no one.  Though the heat was great, her face was covered with a thick veil.  Her dress was black, from head to foot, and she was as a woman who mourned for her husband.  She was led into the room which her father had been allowed to enter through the window; and here she sat, in her husband’s house, feeling that in no position in the world could she be more utterly separated from the interests of all around her.  In a few minutes the door was opened, and her husband was with her, bringing the boy in his hand.  He had dressed himself with some care; but it may be doubted whether the garments which he wore did not make him appear thinner even and more haggard than he had looked to be in his old dressing-gown.  He had not shaved himself, but his long hair was brushed back from his forehead, after a fashion quaint and very foreign to his former ideas of dress.  His wife had not expected that her child would come to her at once, had thought that some entreaties would be necessary, some obedience perhaps exacted from her, before she would be allowed to see him; and now her heart was softened, and she was grateful to her husband.  But she could not speak to him till she had had the boy in her arms.  She tore off her bonnet, and then clinging to the child, covered him with kisses.  ’Louey, my darling!  Louey; you remember mamma?’ The child pressed himself close to his mother’s bosom, but spoke never a word.  He was cowed and overcome, not only by the incidents of the moment, but by the terrible melancholy of his whole life.  He had been taught to understand, without actual spoken lessons, that he was to live with his father, and that the former woman-given happinesses of his life were at an end.  In this second visit from his mother he did not forget her.  He recognised the luxury of her love; but it did not occur to him even to hope that she might have come to rescue him from the evil of his days.  Trevelyan was standing by, the while, looking on; but he did not speak till she addressed him.

‘I am so thankful to you for bringing him to me,’ she said.

‘I told you that you should see him,’ he said.  ’Perhaps it might have been better that I should have sent him by a servant; but there are circumstances which make me fear to let him out of my sight.’