His mother rose to receive her--advanced a few steps, smiling--looked Rebecca full in the eyes, and suddenly stopped.

Her face, which had been flushed the moment before, turned white in an instant; her eyes lost their expression of softness and kindness, and assumed a blank look of terror; her outstretched hands fell to her sides, and she staggered back a few steps with a low cry to her son.
"Isaac," she whispered, clutching him fast by the arm when he asked alarmedly if she was taken ill, "Isaac, does that woman's face remind you of nothing ?" Before he could answer--before he could look round to where Rebecca stood, astonished and angered by her reception, at the lower end of the room, his mother pointed impatiently to her writing-desk, and gave him the key.
"Open it," she said, in a quick breathless whisper.
"What does this mean?
Why am I treated as if I had no business here?
Does your mother want to insult me ?" asked Rebecca, angrily.
"Open it, and give me the paper in the left-hand drawer.

Quick! quick, for Heaven's sake!" said Mrs.Scatchard, shrinking further back in terror.
Isaac gave her the paper.

She looked it over eagerly for a moment, then followed Rebecca, who was now turning away haughtily to leave the room, and caught her by the shoulder--abruptly raised the long, loose sleeve of her gown, and glanced at her hand and arm.

Something like fear began to steal over the angry expression of Rebecca's face as she shook herself free from the old woman's grasp.