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 THE OLD COUNTESS; 
 
 OR. 
 
 THE TWO PROPOSALS. 
 
 BY .. 
 
 MRS. AM S. STEPHENS. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE," "THE REIGNING BELLE," "MARRIED IN HASTE," 
 
 "MABEL'S MISTAE," "DOUBLY FALSE," "WIVES AND WIDOWS," " MARY DERWENT," 
 
 "THE REJECTED WIFE," "THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," 
 
 "FASHION AND FAMINE," "THE HEIRESS," "RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY," 
 
 "THE CURSE OF GOLD," "SILENT STRUGGLES," "THE WIPE'S SECRET," 
 
 " PALACES AND PRISONS," " THE GOLD BKICK," " A NOBLE WOMAN." 
 
 
 A SEQUEL TO "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 T. B. PETE.RSON & BROTHERS; 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 MRS. AM S. STEPHENS' WORKS. 
 
 Each Work is complete in one volume, 12mo. 
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS;. Q&-THE TWO PROPOSALS. 
 LORD HOPES CHOICE. 
 
 THE REIGNING BELLE. 
 
 A A NOBLE WOMAN. 
 
 MARRIED IN HASTE. 
 
 WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE. 
 THE REJECTED WIFE. 
 
 THE GOLD BRICK. 
 
 THE CURSE OF GOLD. 
 
 THE HEIRESS. 
 FASHION AND FAMINE. 
 
 PALACES AND PRISONS. 
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 
 
 SILENT STRUGGLES. 
 
 MART DERWENT. 
 THE WIFE'S SECRET. 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS. 
 
 RUBY GRAFS STRATEGY. 
 MABEL'S MISTAKE. 
 
 DOUBLY FALSE. 
 Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth ; or $1.50 in Paper Cover. 
 
 Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or 
 all of the above book3 will be sent to any one, to any place, 
 postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers, 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
 
 Black 
 
 33* 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter PACK 
 
 I. LOVE LIGHTS IN TWO BEAUTS.................. 23 
 
 II. CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER 30 
 
 III. LOVERS' QUARREL 40 
 
 IV. THE ITALIAN TEACHER 48 
 
 V. THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION.. 51 
 VI. SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJU- 
 GAL DIFFICULTY... ....... . - 68 
 
 VII. THE OPERATIC SUPPER 77 
 
 VIII. BEHIND THE SCENES 86 
 
 IX. THE FIRST PERFORMANCE -. . . _. . _ . . 91 
 
 X. THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET 96 
 
 XL LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER 101 
 
 XII. THE OLD PRISONER 107 
 
 XIII. THE OLD COUNTESS 116 
 
 XIV. THE OLD COUNTESS ANJD HER SERVANT 122 
 
 xv. THE EARL'S RETURN 133 
 
 XVI. THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER 143 
 
 XVIL HUSBAND ANp WIFE 152 
 
 XVIII. THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING.. 159 
 
 XIX. AtfTEB XHE FAILURE 167 
 
 (21) 
 
 2Q5--1 2
 
 22 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XX. LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA.. 176 
 
 XXI. ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON C A.STLE 184 
 
 XXII. THE OLD COUNTESS 191 
 
 XXIII. EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS 197 
 
 XXIV. DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS 203 
 
 XXV. HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY 206 
 
 XXVI. THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER 214 
 
 XXVIL MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER 220 
 
 XXVIII. JUST FIFTY POUNDS 224 
 
 XXIX. OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT 232 
 
 XXX. THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON 240 
 
 XXXI. DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN 247 
 
 XXXII. OUT AMONG THE TREES 253 
 
 XXXI1L THE BALL AT HOUGHTON 263 
 
 XXXIV. THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN 269 
 
 XXXV. LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE 274 
 
 XXXVI. DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER 280 
 
 XXXVII. THE NEMESIS.., ,. 289
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS; 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE TWO PROPOSALS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEABTS. 
 
 < 
 
 DUBIXG fourteen years Hepworth Gloss had been a wan- 
 derer over the earth. 
 
 When he was carried out from the court-room after Mrs. 
 Yates' confession of a crime which he bad shrinkingly 
 believed committed by another, he had fainted from the 
 suddenness with which a terrible load had been lifted from 
 his soul. 
 
 In that old woman's guilt he had no share. It swept 
 the blackness from the marriage he had protested against 
 as hideously wicked. The wrong he had done was divested 
 of the awful responsibilities which had seemed more than 
 he could bear. The revelation had made him, compara- 
 tively, an innocent and free man. But a shock had been 
 given to his whole being which unfitted him for the com- 
 mon uses of -society. . 
 
 After all that had passed through his mind he could not 
 bear to think of joining his sister or husband. The keen 
 
 (23)
 
 24 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 feelings of a nature, not in its full development wicked or 
 dishonorable, had been startled into life, when he saw into 
 what a gulf he had almost plunged. He saw the sin and 
 the wrong he had done in its true light, and not only repent- 
 ed of it, but abhorred it from the very depths of his soul. 
 He longed to make atonement, and would have given ten 
 years from his life for a chance by which he could have 
 sacrificed himself to any one that poor murdered lady had 
 loved. 
 
 These feelings rose up like a barrier between him and his 
 sister. Her influence over his youth had been so powerful 
 that his own better nature never might have asserted itself 
 but for the tragedy which followed his first plunge into 
 deception and wrong-doing. He loved this beautiful young 
 woman yet, as few brothers of any age or class ever did ; 
 but the shock of that tragedy was on him, and his impulse 
 was to flee from her and the man for whose sake all this 
 trouble had come. 
 
 Hepworth Gloss was not the first youth whose life has 
 opened with evil thoughts and evil deeds, from which his 
 manhood shrank appalled. 
 
 The unformed intellect and quick passions of youth have 
 wrecked many a noble soul, by the sin of an hour or a day, 
 beyond the redemption of a toiling and regretful after-life. 
 The man who does redeem himself must have a powerful 
 nature, which will force its strength to be recognized, and 
 make its regeneration felt. But to the sins of youth much 
 should be forgiven, which, in the mature man, justice might 
 utterly condemn. 
 
 Hepworth Gloss arose from that fainting fit humbled and 
 grateful. That moment his resolve was taken. He would 
 not share the benefits which might come to him through 
 his sister's marriage, nor in anything partake of a reward 
 for the evil he had, in mercy, been saved from. The world
 
 LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. 25 
 
 was before him. He would work his way into prosperity, 
 if possible ; if not, bear his fate like a man who had de- 
 served suffering, and could endure it. 
 
 One act of restitution was in his power. The property 
 of the unfortunate person, whom ,he knew as Lady Hope, 
 had fallen into his possession, for the house had been pur- 
 chased in his name, and, in like manner, her deposits had 
 been made. He had never intended to claim this money as 
 his own, and invested it now, holding himself as the trustee. 
 This done, he threw himself upon the world, quite alone. 
 
 During fifteen years he had asserted the honorable man- 
 hood that had sprung out of his erring youth. That fear- 
 ful tragedy had sickened him with deception, and with all 
 ambition which did n6t spring out of his own honest exer- 
 tions. He went forth, with all his energies on the alert, 
 and his intellect free from the suspicions that had for a time 
 enthralled it. He had craved riches, and hoped to obtain 
 them through Rachael's marriage. This had been a temp- 
 tation. He had ambition still, but it took a far more noble 
 direction. With wealth he would gather knowledge ; with 
 both, mental force and moral power. 
 
 He went. Men saw him in the gold mines of California, 
 in Australia, and among the traders of India and Japan. 
 Then he came back to New York, and was honorably 
 known upon the exchange. Then came a yearning wish to 
 see his sister, the only relative he had on earth ; and we 
 find him at the gate of Oakhurst Park, just as Lady Clara 
 dashed through it, as bright a vision of joyous, happy girl- 
 hood as ever crossed the path of any man. 
 
 That moment I think that Hepworth Closs fell in love 
 with the girl. If so, it was absolutely his first love. The 
 boyish and most unprincipled passion he had felt for that 
 murdered lady had no similitude with the feelings that pos- 
 sessed him now. It was a wicked, insane desire, springing
 
 26 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 out of his perverted youth a feeling that he would have 
 shuddered to have recognized as love, in these, his better 
 days. 
 
 Yes, it is certain Gloss loved the girl at first sight, but 
 was unconscious of it, as the nest is when a dove settles 
 down to its brooding. 
 
 As for the girl, she had seen but few men in her life cal- 
 culated to disturb the repose of a creature so gifted and 
 rich in imagination. At first Hepworth had seemed rather 
 an old person to her, notwithstanding the gloss of his black 
 hair, and the smooth whiteness of his forehead. With a 
 trust in this, which gradually betrayed her, she accepted 
 him frankly as a relative, and in less than three weeks, 
 grew restless as a bird. She wondered what had made the 
 world all at once so gloriously beautiful, and why it was so 
 difficult for her to keep the tears out of her eyes when 
 the soft purple evening came down, and divided the day 
 which had been spent with him, from the night, when she 
 could only hope to see him in shadowy dreams. 
 
 Rachael Gloss saw all this, and it filled her with bitter 
 rejoicing. How would her powerful old enemy receive the 
 intelligence that a brother of hers had won the heart of the 
 future Lady Carset? that he would be lord of the proud 
 old castle, which must go with the title, and mingle the 
 blood she had so often denounced as base with that which 
 had turned against her, with such hot scorn, ever since she 
 entered England as Lord Hope's wife ? 
 
 The very thought of that haughty old peeress so humili- 
 ated was wonderfully pleasant to the wounded pride of 
 Rachael Gloss. But far beyond this was the yearning, 
 almost passionate fondness she felt for her brother and the 
 beautiful girl who had been to her at once a Nemesis and 
 an infatuation. 
 
 This was what Lady Hope had hinted at when Hepworth
 
 LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. 27 
 
 first came. The great wish of her heart had grown to be 
 the union of these two persons, next to one supreme object 
 of love, the dearest beings to her on earth. It seemed to 
 her that those long, weary intervals, which grew more and 
 more frequent, when Lord Hope left her alone in the deso- 
 late splendor of that great house, would be more endurable 
 if she were certain that these two persons would always be 
 near her. She was not ambitious for her brother. That 
 feeling had died out years ago ; but her love sprang to him, 
 like a freshly-kindled flame. 
 
 With Lady Hope, as with Eachael Gloss, there was no 
 moderation in her feelings, which were tenacious as they 
 were powerful and exacting. But Rachael, with all her 
 impetuosity, had strong contradictory qualities. She was 
 sagacious, and could rein in her passion of love or hate as 
 an Arab controls his desert steed. That which her soul 
 most desired she could wait for. 
 
 One night, when the moonbeams lay like silver on the 
 stone terrace, and the shadow of the peacock fell from the 
 balustrade like a second bird, Lady Hope complained of 
 fatigue, and retreated into her own room, leaving Hepworth 
 and Clara sitting upon a flight of steps which led down to 
 a flower-garden, somewhat neglected of late years, which 
 lay beneath the stone terrace and brightened the grounds 
 nearest to the lady's apartments. Not far from these steps 
 was a noble old cedar of Lebanon, rooted deep, where the 
 drawbridge had been hundreds of years before. Beneath it 
 was a rustic seat, and in its branches innumerable birds 
 were sleeping. 
 
 There never was, perhaps, a finer contrast of silver light 
 and black shadow in any landscape than surrounded these 
 two persons, as they .sat together side by side, both thinking 
 of the same thing, and both reluctant to break the delicious 
 silence.
 
 28 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 At last Hepworth spoke it was but a single word, which 
 made his companion start and hold her breath. 
 
 " Clara ! " 
 
 She did not answer himf that one word frightened her. 
 She had half a mind to start up and hide herself in the 
 shadows, for he was looking in her face, and the moonlight 
 fell like a glory over his features, which she now saw were 
 grave even to sadness. 
 
 "Clara, do you know that I must go away soon ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! no ! " 
 
 The girl had not expected this. The infinite tenderness 
 in his voice had led her completely astray, and she broke 
 forth in an eager protest. 
 
 " I must, dear child." 
 
 " Dear child ! " repeated the girl, half crying. " Yes, yes, 
 you treat me like a child as if I could help being young 
 as if I could not feel and think and be miserable like other 
 people. It's hard, it's cruel, it's it's " 
 
 Here Clara burst into a flood of tears, and leaping to her 
 feet, would have run into the room where Lady Hope was 
 sitting, but Gloss caught her in his arms. 
 
 "What are you crying for, Clara? Why do you wish to 
 run away ? It is wrong to say this, but I must go, because 
 of loving you as no man ever loved a woman before." 
 
 "A woman ? " said Clara, and gleams of mischief peeped 
 out from behind her tears. " You called me a child just 
 now." 
 
 "Woman or child, Clara, you are the dearest thing to me 
 on earth." 
 
 Clara struggled in his arms, and tried to push him from 
 her. 
 
 " I I don't believe you. There ! " 
 
 Don't believe me ? " 
 
 Hepworth released the girl, and allowed her to stand
 
 LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. 29 
 
 alone. On any subject touching his honor he was pecu- 
 liarly sensitive. 
 
 " Because because men who love people don't run away 
 from them. It it isn't reasonable." 
 
 All the mischief in her eyes was drowned in fresh tears. 
 She thought that he was offended, and the estrangement of 
 a moment seems eternal to first love. 
 
 " Honorable men do not permit themselves to speak of 
 love at all where they have reason to think it unwelcome," 
 was his grave reply. 
 
 " Unwelcome ? Oh, Mr. Gloss ! " 
 
 Clara held out both her hands and catne nearer to Hep- 
 worth, like a child that wants to be forgiven. He drew her 
 close to his side, but spoke a little sadly. 
 
 " You see how much I must love you, Clara, to forget all 
 that a guest in your father's house should remember." 
 
 " I I don't know ; I can't understand what it is that 
 you have done wrong. I'm sure I'm ready to forgive 
 you." 
 
 She might have said more, but he took the breath from 
 her lips, and held her so close to his heart that she could 
 feel its tumultuous beatings. 
 
 " But I can never forgive myself, darling." 
 
 " Oh, yes you will ! " 
 
 The creature pursed up her lips and offered them for his 
 kiss thus, as she thought, tempting him into self-forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 " Is it that you really really love me ? " questioned 
 Hepworth, searching the honest eyes she lifted to his with 
 a glance half-passionate, half-sorrowful, which brought a 
 glow of blushes to her face. 
 
 " Can you ask that now ? " she questioned, drooping 
 her head. "Will a good girl take kisses from the man she 
 does not lave ? "
 
 30 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " God bless you for saying it, darling ! Oh, if it could be 
 if it could be ! " 
 
 " If what could be, Mr. Gloss ?" 
 
 " That you might be my wife, live with me forever, lovo 
 me forever." 
 
 " Your wife? " answered Clara, pondering over the sweet 
 word in loving tenderness. " Your wife ? Are you asking 
 me if I will be that?" 
 
 "I dare not ask you, Clara. What would your father 
 say ? What would he have a right to say ? " 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," answered Clara, ruefully, 
 for she CQuld not honestly say that her father would con- 
 sent. 
 
 " You see, Clara, I have nothing to do but say farewell, 
 and go." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER. 
 
 LADY HOPE had retreated into her own room, for the 
 absence of her husband was beginning to prey upon her; 
 and she was all the more sad and lonely because she knew 
 in her heart that the two persons whom she saw together 
 in the moonlight were thinking, perhaps talking, of the 
 love which she must never know in its fullness again 
 which she had never known as good and contented wives 
 experience it. 
 
 Indeed, love is the one passion that can neither be 
 wrested from fate or bribed into life. It must spring up 
 from the heart, like a wild flower from seed God plants in 
 virgin forest soil, to bring contentment with its blossoming.
 
 LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. 31 
 
 The sunshine which falls upon it must be pure and bright 
 from heaven. Plant it in an atmosphere of sin, and that 
 which might have been a holy passion becomes a torment, 
 bitter in proportion to its strength. 
 
 Ah ! how keenly Rachael Gloss felt all this as she sat there 
 alone in her bower room, looking wistfully out upon those 
 two lovers, both so dear to her that her very soul yearned 
 with sympathy for the innocent love she had never 
 known, and never could know upon earth ! Yet, dear as 
 these two persons were to her, she would have seen that 
 fair girl and the manly form beside her shrouded in their 
 coffins, if that could have brought back one short twelve- 
 months of the passionate insanity which had won Lord 
 Hope to cast aside all restraint and fiercely wrench apart 
 the most sacred ties in order to make her his wife. She 
 asked for impossibilities. Love born in tumult and founded 
 in selfishness must have its reactions, and between those two 
 the shadow of a wronged woman was forever falling; and, 
 struggle as they would, it grew colder and darker every 
 year. But upon these two persons time operated differ- 
 ently. The wild impetuosity of his character had hardened 
 into reserve. His ambition was to stand high among men 
 of his own class to be known as a statesman of power in 
 the realm. 
 
 But, in all this Rachael knew that she was a drawback 
 and a heavy weight upon his aspirations. Was it that she 
 was less bright or beautiful ? No, no. Her mirror contra- 
 dicted the one doubt, and the power which she felt in her 
 own genius rebuked the other. 
 
 Once give her a foothold among the men and women who 
 had so persistently considered her as an intruder, and the 
 old vigor and pride of .her life would come back with it : the 
 idolatry which had induced that infatuated man to overlook
 
 32 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 these stumbling blocks to his pride and impediments to his 
 ambition would surely revive. 
 
 " Let him see me at court ; let him compare me with the 
 women whose cutting disdain wounds me to death, because 
 it disturbs him ; let him place me where this intellect can 
 have free scope, and never on this earth was there a woman 
 who would work out a husband's greatness so thoroughly." 
 
 In the first years of her marriage, Eachael would say 
 these things to herself, in the bitterness of her humiliation 
 and disappointment. Others, less beautiful and lacking her 
 talent, had been again and again introduced from lower 
 ranks into the nobility of England, accepted by its queen, 
 and honored by society. Why was she alone so persistently 
 excluded ? The answer was always ready, full of bitter- 
 ness. The enmity of old Lady Carset had done it all. It 
 was her influence that had closed the queen's drawing- 
 room against Lord Hope's second wife. It was her charge 
 regarding the Carset diamonds that had made Eachael 
 shrink from wearing the family jewels, which justly be- 
 longed to her as Lord Hope's property. It was this which 
 made her so reluctant to pass the boundaries of Oakhurst. 
 It was this that embittered her whole life, and rendered it 
 one long humiliation. 
 
 These reflections served to concentrate the hopes and 
 affections of this woman so entirely around one object, that 
 her love for Hope, which had been an overwhelming pas- 
 sion, grew into that idolatry no man, whose life was in the 
 world, could answer to, for isolation was necessary to a feel- 
 ing of such cruel intensity. 
 
 As the hope of sharing his life and his honors gave way, 
 doubts, suspicions, and anxieties grew out of her inordinate 
 love, and the greatest sorrow to her on earth was the 
 absence of her husband. It was not alone that she missed 
 his company, which was, in fact, all the world to her ; but,
 
 CLARA'S APPEAL. 33 
 
 as he went more and more into the world, a terrible dread 
 seized upon her. What if he found, among all the highly 
 born women who received him so graciously, some one who, 
 in the brightness of a happy life, might make him regret 
 the sacrifice he had made for her, the terrible scenes he had 
 gone through in order to obtain her? What if he might 
 yet come to wish her dead, as she sometimes almost wished 
 herself ! 
 
 In this way the love, which had flowed like a lava 
 stream through that woman's life, engendered its own curse, 
 and her mind was continually haunted by apprehensions 
 which had no foundation, in fact, for, to this day, Lurd 
 Hope loved her with deeper passion than he had ever given 
 to that better woman ; but with him the distractions of 
 statesmanship, and the allurements of social life, were a 
 resource from intense thought, while she had so little beside 
 himself. 
 
 She had striven to bind him to her by kindness to his 
 child, until the bright girl became, as it were, a part of him- 
 self, with whom it would be death to part. 
 
 Is it strange, then, that this dream of uniting Clara to 
 her only brother should have been very sweet to the un- 
 happy woman ? 
 
 Lord Hope had been absent a whole month now, and 
 even with the excitement of her brother's presence, Kachael 
 had fouTTd those four weeks terribly long. 
 
 What would she do if that fair girl were separated from 
 her entirely? Then solitude would be terrible indeed ! 
 
 But another anxiety came upon her by degrees. In 
 what way would her husband receive Hepworth Gloss ? 
 How would he accept the position the two persons out 
 yonder were .drifting into? Would he consent to a union 
 which even her partiality admitted as unsuitable, or would
 
 34 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 he, in his cold, calm way, plant his foot upon their hearts 
 and crush her fond desire out of existence ? 
 
 As Lady Hope pondered over these thoughts in silence 
 and semi-darkness, Clara came through the window, in 
 great excitement. 
 
 " Oh ! mamma Kachael ! He is going away from us. 
 He told me so just now; but you will not let him. You 
 will never let him ! " 
 
 Lady Hope started out of her reverie. 
 
 " Going away ? Where ? Who ? I cannot understand, 
 Clara!" 
 
 " Hepworth Mr. Gloss, I mean. Ob, mamma! he 
 threatens to leave us here all alone by ourselves the most 
 cruel thing that ever was heard of. I thought how angry 
 you would be, and came at once. You can do anything 
 with him he loves you so dearly. Let him threaten if he 
 likes, but you will not let him go. You will tell him how 
 foolish, how cruel it is to leave us, while papa is away. Oh ! 
 mamma Rachael, you can do anything ! Do this ! Do 
 this ! " 
 
 " But why, darling why do you care so much ? " 
 
 " Why ! why ! " Clara threw back her head till the 
 curls waved away from her shoulders, then a burning crim- 
 son came over her, the shamed face drooped again, and she 
 answered : " I don't know I don't know." 
 
 Rachael bent her face till it almost touched that hot 
 cheek, and whispered : 
 
 " Is it that you love him, my own Clara? " 
 
 Again Clara lifted her face. A strange light came upon 
 it. Her lips were parted, her blue eyes opened wide. 
 
 " Love him love him ? Oh ! mamma Rachael, is this 
 love?" 
 
 Rachael smiled, and kissed that earnest face, holding it 
 between both hands.
 
 CLARA'S APPEAL. 35 
 
 " I think it is, darling. Nay, I am sure that you love 
 him, and that he loves you." 
 
 11 Loves me ? Then why does he go away ? I should 
 think so but for that." 
 
 " Because of that, I am afraid, Clara." 
 
 " Loves me, and goes away because he loves me ! " said 
 the girl, bewildered. " I don't understand it." 
 
 " There may be many reasons, Clara." 
 
 " I can't think of one. Indeed I can't. Papa never was 
 cruel." 
 
 " He may not think it quite honorable to let make you 
 love him, when your father knows nothing about it." 
 
 " But papa would not mind." 
 
 " Hepworth does not know that ; nor do I. Your father 
 is a very proud man, Clara, and has a right to look high, 
 for his only child." 
 
 " What then ? Mr. Gloss is handsomer, brighter, more 
 more everything that is grand and royal, than any noble- 
 man I have ever seen. What can papa say against that ? " 
 
 " But he is a man of no family position simply Hep- 
 worth Gloss, nothing more. We can scarcely call him an 
 Englishman." 
 
 "What then, mamma? He is a gentleman. Who, in 
 all this neighborhood, can compare with him ? " 
 
 " No one ! no one ! " answered Kachael, with enthusiasm. 
 "There is but one man on all the earth so far above the 
 rest ; but persons who look upon birth and wealth as every- 
 thing, may not see him with our eyes, my Clara. Then 
 there is another objection. Hepworth is over thirty." 
 
 " Mamma E/achael, you know well enough that I never 
 did like boys," said Clara, with childish petulance. 
 
 "And compared with the great landed noblemen of Eng- 
 land, he is poor." 
 
 " Not so^ mamma Kachael. He has made lota and lots 
 2
 
 36 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 of money out in those countries where they dig gold from 
 the earth. He described it all to me, about washing dirt 
 in pans, and crushing rocks in great machines, and picking 
 up pure gold in nuggets why, he found an awful big one 
 himself. I daresay he has got more real money than papa. 
 I do, indeed." 
 
 Lady Hope sighed. Perhaps she thought so too ; for 
 Oakhurst was closely entailed, and ready money was some- 
 times scarce in that sumptuous dwelling. 
 
 "And then how much shall I have ? Let me ask that 
 of papa." 
 
 " But you will inherit something with the Carset title in 
 spite of your grandmother." 
 
 " Yes, I know. An enormous old castle with just land 
 enough to keep it in repair. That isn't much to boast of, 
 or make a man like Mr. Gloss feel modest when he thinks 
 of me." 
 
 " But the title. Is it nothing to be a peeress in your 
 own right ? " 
 
 " I would rather he were an earl, and I a peeress in his 
 right." 
 
 " You are a strange girl, Clara." 
 
 " But you love me if I am, mamma Rachael." 
 
 " Love you, child ! You will never know how much ! 
 
 " And if it so happened that he did really like me, you 
 wouldn't go against it ? " 
 
 " But what would my will be opposed to that of your 
 father?" 
 
 " Only this you can do anything with papa. Don't I 
 remember when I was a little girl ? " 
 
 Eachael sighed heavily. 
 
 *' That was a long time ago, Clara, and childish wants 
 are easily satisfied." 
 
 Clara threw both arms around her stepmother's neck 
 and kissed her.
 
 CLARA'S APPEAL. 37 
 
 " Never mind if he is a little stubborn now and then ; 
 you can manage him, yet, mamma. Only, don't let Mr. 
 Gloss do that horrid thing. I never could ride alone with 
 the ponies after the last three weeks. You don't know how 
 instructive he is ! Why, we have travelled all over the 
 world together, and now he wants to throw me overboard ; 
 but you won't let him do that, mamma Rachael. What 
 need is there of any thought about what may come? We 
 are all going on beautifully, now, and, I dare say, papa is 
 enjoying himself shooting grouse. When he comes back 
 and sees how much Mr. Gloss is like you, everything will 
 be right. Only, mamma Rachael, tell me one thing. Are 
 you sure that that he isn't thinking me a child, and likes 
 me only for that? This very night he called me 'my 
 child,' and said he was going. That made me wretchedly 
 angry, so I came in here. Now tell me " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! I hear his step on the terrace." 
 
 The girl darted off like a swallow. For the whole uni- 
 
 srse she could not have met Hepworth there in the pres- 
 
 ce of a third person. 
 
 As she left the room, Gloss entered it. 
 
 "Rachael," he said, standing before his sister, in the 
 square of moonlight cast like a block of silver through the 
 window, " I have been weak enough to love this girl whom 
 we both knew as an infant, when I was old enough to be a 
 worse man than I shall ever be again ; and, still more rep- 
 rehensible, I have told her of it within the last half -hour; 
 a pleasant piece of business, which Lord Hope will be likely 
 to relish. Don't you think so?" 
 
 " I do not know I cannot tell. Hope loves his daugh- 
 ter, and has never yet denied anything to her. He may 
 not like it at first ; but oh ! Hepworth, I know almost as 
 little of my husband's feelings or ideas as you can." 
 
 " But you will not think that I have done wrong ? "
 
 38 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "What, in loving Clara? What man on earth could 
 help it ? " 
 
 "Well, I do love her, and I think she loves me." 
 
 " I know she does." 
 
 " Thank you, sister; but she is such a child." 
 
 '' She is woman enough to he firm and faithful." 
 
 " You approve it all, then ? " 
 
 Hepworth sat down by his sister and threw his arui 
 around her. 
 
 " My poor Eachael ! how I wish this, or anything else, 
 could make you really happy ! " 
 
 She did not answer; b^.,he felt her form trembling 
 under his arm. 
 
 " But 1 only see in it new troubles for you and dishonor 
 for myself. There is really but one way for me to act 1 
 must leave this place." 
 
 "And Clara? After what you have said, that would, 
 indeed, be dishonorable." 
 
 " She is so young ; the pain would all go with me. In 
 few months I shall probably have scarcely a place in h 
 memory." 
 
 " You wrong the dearest and finest girl in the whole 
 world when you say that, Hepworth ! To desert her now 
 would be profound cruelty." 
 
 " Then in what way am I to act? " 
 
 "Write to Lord Hope; tell him the truth that you 
 have won the respect of men by your actions, and have, 
 with your own energies, acquired wealth enough to make 
 you a fair match in that respect for his daughter. Make 
 no allusion to the past ; he is proud, and terribly sensitive 
 on that point, and might suspect you of making claims to 
 equality because of it." 
 
 Hepworth smiled as he stood before her in the moonlight, 
 and she saw it. Wide travel and experience among men
 
 CLARA'S APPEAL. 39 
 
 had led him to think that, after all, the highest level of 
 humanity did not always range with hereditary titles ; but 
 he only said, very calmly : 
 
 " Lord Hope cannot accuse me justly of aspiring where 
 he is concerned." 
 
 Rachael felt the hot crimson leap to her face. Did Hep- 
 worth dare to equal himself with Lord Hope, the one great 
 idol of her own perverted life ? She answered, angrily, for- 
 getting that the sinner was her only brother: 
 
 " Lord Hope need have no fear that any man living will 
 so aspire." 
 
 " Poor foolish girl !" said Hepworth, feeling the flash of 
 her black eyes, and touched ^th pity, rather than anger, 
 by her quick resentment. " Do not let us quarrel about 
 Hope. If he makes you happy, I have nothing to say 
 against him." 
 
 " Happy ! happy ! " 
 
 Rachael shrank back in her seat, uttering these two 
 words in a voice so full of pathetic sorrow, that it brought 
 the pain of coming tears into Hepworth's eyes. He was 
 glad to turn the subject. 
 
 " Then you are not willing that I should go away ? " 
 
 " It would almost kill me to lose you again, Hepworth." 
 
 The young man felt that she spoke the truth ; the very 
 tones of her voice thrilled him with a tender conviction. 
 
 " I will write to Hope," he said ; " it must end in that 
 or absence. It shall not be my fault, Rachael, if I ever go 
 far away from you again." 
 
 Lady Hope took her brother's hand between hers. 
 
 " That is kind, and I really think the only wise thing to 
 be done," she said. " Hope knows that you were born a 
 gentleman," 
 
 "And having married into the family himself, ean hardly 
 say that it is not good enough for his daughter. This id
 
 40 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 answer enough for all objections of that kind. In fact, 
 Kachael, I begin to think we can make out a tolerable 
 claim. Now that we have decided on the letter, I will 
 write it at once, here, if you will let me order more lights." 
 
 Hepworth rang the bell as he spoke, and directly wax 
 candles were burning on the ebony desk at which Lady 
 Hope was accustomed to write. 
 
 Having made up his mind, Gloss was not the man to 
 hesitate in doing the thing he had resolved on. He spread 
 a sheet of paper before him, and began his letter at once. 
 Kachael watched him earnestly as his pen flew over the 
 paper. 
 
 For the first time she realfted, with a pang of apprehen- 
 sion, the step she was so blindly encouraging. What if 
 Lord Hope took offense at the letter, or should condemn 
 her for the intimacy which had led to it ? She was afraid 
 of her husband, and each movement of Hepworth's pen 
 struck her with dread. Had she, indeed, laid herself open 
 to the wrath of a man, who was so terrible in his anger, 
 that it made even her brave heart cower? 
 
 "There, it is finished," said Hepworth, addressing his 
 letter, and flinging down the pen. "Now let us throw 
 aside care, and be happy as we can till the answer conies." 
 
 Lady Hope sighed heavily, and, reaching forth her hand, 
 bade him good-night. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 THEY were sitting together, under the great cedar tree, 
 declared lovers j perhaps not the less happy because some
 
 LOVER S' QUARREL. 41 
 
 little doubt rested over their future, so far as the young lady 
 was concerned. 
 
 As for Hepworth Gloss, he had made up his mind to 
 expect difficulties, and knew how to conquer them, if human 
 ingenuity could do it. He loved the bright young creature, 
 and had resolved within himself that no unreasonable 
 opposition on the part of his former friend should prevent 
 him marrying her, while there was a possibility of concilia- 
 ting his bride, or working upon the love which he had 
 always evinced for his child. 
 
 Hepworth had learned, from conversation with both the 
 ladies, that the Lord Hope of the present day was a very 
 different person from the rash, headstrong, audacious young 
 man whom he had almost threatened with disgrace fourteen 
 years back. 
 
 Then he was ready to cast wealth, rank, conscience, every- 
 thing, aside for the gratification of any wild passion that 
 beset him. Now he held the rank to which he was born 
 sacred above all things ; was careful, if not covetous, of 
 wealth, because it added power to rank; and was known the 
 whole country round as one of the proudest noblemen and 
 most punctilious magistrates in the three kingdoms. 
 
 This man's daughter he Hepworth Gloss desired to 
 make his wife. Nay, in spite of fate, meant to make his 
 wife, unless she, in her own self, cast his love from her. 
 Having settled upon this, he cast off all care, and gave 
 himself up to the supreme happiness of loving and being 
 beloved. 
 
 So, as the two sat under the cedar tree, that bland autumn 
 day, Glara thought, in her wilful little heart, that the man 
 looked too confident and happy. She had no idea of settling 
 down into a commonplace engagement, sanctioned or un- 
 sauctioued. What business had be to look so supremely
 
 42 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 contented ? Did he not know that girls sometimes changed 
 their minds ? 
 
 In short, Lady Clara was in a wilful mood, and could be 
 provoking enough when the fit came on her. Just now she 
 was embroidering diligently. The golden stamens of a su- 
 perb cactus glowed out stitch by stitch, as her needle flew 
 in and out of its great purplish and crimson leaves. 
 
 " Why don't you look up, Clara ? I haven't seen your 
 eyes these ten minutes." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, I'm too busy. Pray hand me a thread 
 of that yellow silk." 
 
 " Not if I can help it, ladybird. It's very tiresome sit- 
 ting here, only to watch your sharp little needle as it drops 
 color into that great flower. One never gets a sight of your 
 full face." 
 
 " Then you don't like the profile ? " said Clara, de- 
 murely, and her needle flashed almost into Hepworth's 
 eyes as he bent over her. ".JThat is just what I expected. 
 It isn't three days since you first pretended to care for 
 me." 
 
 "Pretended! Clara?" 
 
 " That was the word," answered Clara, holding her work 
 at arms' length, and examining it, with her head on one 
 side, like a bird eyeing the cherry he longs to peck at. 
 " Lovely, isn't it ? " 
 
 " I have been where you could gather armsful of them 
 from the wayside," answered Hepworth. "That is well 
 enough, of course, for silk and worsted ; but you never can 
 get that mixture of crimson, purple and glittering steel, 
 that makes the flower so regal in the tropics ; then the soft 
 tassel of pale gold, streaming out from the heart, and 
 thrown into relief by this exquisite combination of colors. 
 Ah, some day I will show you what a cactus really is, 
 Clara." 

 
 LOVERS' QUARREL. 43 
 
 "Perhaps," said the provoking girl, searching her work- 
 basket for the silk she wanted. " Who knr.ws ? " 
 
 A flash of color flew across Hepworth's forehead. The 
 handsome fellow never had given himself much to the 
 study of women, and even that pretty creature had the 
 power to annoy huw, mature man as he was. She saw that 
 he was vexed, and rather liked it; for if the truth must be 
 told, a more natural coquette never lived than Lady 
 Clara. 
 
 "Are you beginning to doubt, Clara ? " 
 
 " Doubt ? Oh ! not at all. I don't honestly believe that 
 there ever was a more perfect flower than that. See how 
 the colors melt into each other; then the point of that long, 
 prickly leaf coming out behind. I tell you, Mr. Gloss, it's 
 perfect." 
 
 She was looking down at her work, and he could not 
 detect all the mischief that sparkled under her drooping 
 lashes. 
 
 " Clara, what does this mean ? " 
 
 The girl looked up at him so innocently. 
 
 " Mean ? Why, it means a cactus-flower." 
 
 Hepworth Gloss had never been a patient man, and the 
 feelings which that wild girl had awakened in his heart were 
 all too earnest for such trifling. He rose to leave her. 
 Then she gave him a side glance, half comic, half repent- 
 ant. 
 
 "Are you going ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Dear me, I am so sorry, because I wanted to tell you 
 something." 
 
 The girl spoke and acted like a penitent child. Hep- 
 worth sat down again, but his face was clouded. 
 
 " You can do anything with mamma Eachael,-and I want 
 ou to ask a great favor for me."
 
 44 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "Why not ask yourself? My sister denies you noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "But this is something peculiar, and she may think papa 
 would not like it. There is to be a new opera brought out 
 in London, and such a lovely girl is to make her first ap- 
 pearance in it, handsome as the morning, and with a voice 
 like ten thousand nightingales. Now, I do so want to hear 
 her on the first night." 
 
 " Well, that is easy." 
 
 " Yes, yes if mamma Eachael would only think so. But 
 papa is awful particular, and she may be afraid to take me. 
 But with you for an escort, there can't really be any harm ; 
 BO I want your help." 
 
 " But how did you know about this ? I have not seen it 
 in the journals." 
 
 " No, it hasn't got abroad yet. I will tell you all about 
 it. When I was a very, very little girl, my poor mother 
 died in America, where she was travelling among the Indi- 
 ans, I believe, with my father. Well, you see how hard it 
 was on papa to be left with a poor little girl among the sav- 
 ages. I do not know just how it was ; but when he mar- 
 ried mamma Rachael, ever so long after, of course she got 
 an American nurse in New York, who has been with me 
 ever since. I call her my maid now, and won't have any 
 other, French or not for she's good as gold, and loves me 
 dearly. You will believe that when I tell you our head 
 gf rue-keeper wanted to marry her she loved him, too, but 
 wouldn't leave me. Margaret left a sister behind in New 
 York that she was very fond of, and has been pining to see 
 for years. Just before you came she received a letter from 
 London, saying that her sister was there, travelling with 
 some lady connected with the stage, and asking Mar- 
 garet to come and visit her. Of course, Margaret went, 
 and has been all this time on a long visit to her relative,
 
 LOVERS' QUARREL. 45 
 
 who came to Europe with the great prima donna, Olympia. 
 It is her adopted daughter that is coming out." 
 
 "Olympia. Yes, I saw her in America last year a 
 wonderfully beautiful creature, in a certain way; but her 
 style of acting is not exactly what I should choose for you, 
 Lady Clara, though her voice is wonderful." 
 
 " Oh, it isn't her I care about, but the young lady. Mar- 
 garet says she is lovely as an angel, with a heavenly voice, 
 but that she is frightened to death at coming on the stage, 
 and begs and pleads with her mother not to insist on it; 
 but Olympia is determined. My heart quite aches for this 
 poor girl. She is about my age, Margaret says, and so 
 beautiful not a bit like me. I dare say it's true, for I 
 would give the world to be an actress, and have the whole 
 world go mad over my singing. By-the-way, Mr. Gloss, do 
 you know that I can sing ? Mamma Rachael often says, 
 if I were not a lad}', I might go on the stage and beat half 
 the prima donnas ; besides, she says, I am a natural actress, 
 and that seems to displease her." 
 
 "I think you are a natural actress," said Gloss, with a 
 tinge of sarcasm, for this whole subject displeased him, he 
 scarcely could have told why. 
 
 " Now you mean to be unkind," said Clara, rising, with 
 a warm flush iu her cheeks; "I will not ask another favor 
 of you." 
 
 Clara gathered up her embroidery, and prepared to leave 
 the sheltered seat iu which this conversation had been held. 
 She certainly was not acting now, for Gloss saw that her 
 eyes were full of tears. 
 
 "Clara," he said, holding out both hands; "Clara, for- 
 give me." 
 
 She hesitated a minute, then set down her basket, and 
 crept close to his side, wiping the tears with one hand,
 
 46 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 while he clasped the other. Then she snatched her hand 
 away, and held it behind her. 
 
 No I won't forgive you." 
 
 " Not if I persuade Lady Hope to take you up to London 
 for this appearance ? " 
 
 "Ah, then, perhaps." 
 
 "And go with you myself?" 
 
 " That will be splendid." 
 
 " That Olympia is a magnificent creature. I took supper 
 with her once in New York." 
 
 " You, Mr. Gloss! You took supper with her ? " 
 
 " She sang for us that night, divinely." 
 
 "And you admire her so much ? " 
 
 "Very much." 
 
 " Mr. Closs, I do not think I care to go. There is no 
 need of your asking Lady Hope I decline the whole 
 thing." 
 
 " Still, I think we will go, Clara, if it is only to show you 
 how much a woman can be worshipped, and yet despised. 
 Yes, yes, we will go and hear Olympia sing." 
 
 But Clara was not to be so easily appeased. She 
 gathered up her worsted and embroidery, huddled them to- 
 gether in her work-basket and went away, refusing to let 
 Closs carry her basket, or even walk by her side. 
 
 While he stood watching the haughty little thing, a 
 voice from the other side of the cedar tree arrested him. 
 He turned, and saw a face that had once been familiar, but 
 which he could not at the moment recognize. 
 
 The woman came forward with a startled look. She was 
 evidently past thirty, and had an air of independence, 
 which he had never seen in an English domestic. 
 
 She came closer, their eyes met, and he knew that it was 
 Maggie Casey, the chambermaid who had led him up to
 
 LOVERS' QUARREL. 47 
 
 that death-chamber, the last tima he visited it. She had 
 recognized him from the first. 
 
 " Mr. Hepworth," she said, in a low voice: "Mr. Hep- 
 worth ! " 
 
 Closs had almost been prepared for this, and did not 
 allow himself to be taken by surprise. 
 
 " You have got half the name right at any rate," he 
 said, quietly ; " Hepworth Closs, and you have it com- 
 plete. You never could have heard it in full, when you 
 lived in New York, I fancy." 
 
 "Closs, Closs? ,No, I never heard that name given to 
 you ; but it once belonged to Lady Hope, I remember." 
 
 "And of course, naturally belongs to her brother, my good 
 girl," said Closs, with a quiet smile." 
 
 " Her brother ? Whose brother ? Not the Lady that 
 was " 
 
 The girl broke off, and her voice died in a low whisper. 
 
 " No, no ! " broke in the man, with sudden impatience ; 
 " that was a terrible thing, which you and I will be all the 
 happier in forgetting. The poor woman who did it is suf- 
 fering a hard penalty, if she is not in fact dead." 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes ; but how came her grandchild here ? 
 How came you there ? " 
 
 " Hush ! " said Hepworth, in a voice of command, that 
 Btartbd the woman ; " who gave you authority to ask such 
 questions ? What can you know about the old woman's 
 grandchild ? " 
 
 "I know that the young lady who left you ten minutes 
 ago was the little girl they called her grandchild. I saw 
 the coroner holding the poor little thing up to look on the 
 dead lady. I think that lady was her mother." 
 
 "And have told her so, perhaps? " 
 
 "No; 1 never did, and I never will. She called the old
 
 48 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 woman. Yates, grandnlother; but I know better than that, 
 for I know wliere her grandchild is this very minute." 
 
 " You know her grandchild ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do, and a prettier creature never lived." 
 
 "You know her, and will tell me?" 
 
 "Indeed, I will do nothing of the sort," answered Mar- 
 garet, for she had thrown off the jaunty abbreviation of her 
 name. There is something about all this that puzzles me. 
 People that I never expected to see again keep crossing my 
 path like ghosts, and somehow most of them have something 
 to do with that time. Why can't the whole thing rest ? 
 I'm sure that poor old woman, Yates, has had her punish- 
 ment, and I don't want to talk about what I don't under- 
 stand." 
 
 " You are wise," said Gloss, whose face had lost all its 
 cheerfulness ; " there is no good in even thinking of a dead 
 past, and, as you say, that poor old woman has her punish- 
 ment. I am glad you have said nothing of these things to 
 my sister, or Lady Clara." 
 
 "Why should I?" said Margaret, with shrewd good 
 sense : " what good would it do ? In fact, what do I know ? 
 I only hope no such trouble will ever come to this house." 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" said Closs, fervently, and the two 
 parted. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ITALIAN TEACHER. 
 
 LADY Clara was right. Olympia had brought her daugh- 
 ter to London after a professional tour on the continent, not 
 as her daughter. Olympia would not force herself to admit
 
 THE ITALIAN TEACHER. 49 
 
 that the tall Juno-like girl, who outshone her in beauty, and 
 rebuked her flippant grace by a dignity at once calm and 
 regal, could, by any possibility, be her own offspring, at 
 least as yet. She had arranged it with Brown that no 
 public acknowledgment of Caroline's relationship should be 
 made, and that she should pass as an adopted child or pro- 
 tege, at least until her success on the operatic stage was 
 confirmed. 
 
 Brown had stipulated, on his part, that the girl should 
 receive her musical training in strict privacy, so far as that 
 was possible, and, in no case, should be moved from his per- 
 sonal supervision, a condition that Olympia accepted with 
 delight, for, after a month or two, she began to feel the 
 presence of her cast-off husband something of a restraint, 
 and regarded the quick growth and blooming loveliness of 
 the young girl as almost a wrong to her own ripe beauty. 
 Still she would not loosen her hold as a parent on the girl's 
 life, but still hoped to reap a golden harvest from her talent, 
 and sun her own charms, as they waned, in the splendor 
 of her child's beauty. 
 
 With these feelings, Olmypia opened her campaign in 
 Europe, and swept a brilliant career from France to Italy, 
 and from thence to Austria and St. Petersburg, leaving 
 Caroline with her guardian and maid, in a village near Flo- 
 rence, where she could perfect herself iu Italian and music 
 at the same time. 
 
 There Caroline's life really began. They were staying at 
 a pretty villa, terraced up from the banks of a bright little 
 stream, that emptied itself into the Arno, so isolated and 
 lonely, that it was perfect heaven to Brown, who was set 
 down at once as the young lady's father, and to Eliza, who 
 delighted in the chance of rest this arrangement promised. 
 
 While in Florence, Brown had taken his charge to one of 
 the best teachers in Europe, who consented to break through
 
 50 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 his usual rules and give her lessons in the pretty home she 
 had decided on. He would also charge himself with select- 
 ing a teacher of the language, who should make her pro- 
 nunciation of the sweet Tuscan perfect as her voice, which 
 was, in fact, something wonderful. 
 
 Some persons were in the musician's room when these 
 arrangements were made, and one of them, a young man> 
 drew slowly toward the piano, like a bird charmed against 
 its will, and listened with rapt attention while Caroline 
 took her first lesson. The girl looked up once or twice, as 
 her voice rang out with unusual power, and unconsciously 
 answered back the warm smile that enkindled his whole face. 
 A musician himself she knew by the very expression of hia 
 dark eyes. 
 
 Brown saw it too, and was delighted with the effect of 
 her genius; which he, in his partial affection, deemed traus- 
 cendant. 
 
 "He is a professor, I dare say, or perhaps a great singer," 
 thought the kind old man ; "but she charmed him at once." 
 Brown was confirmed in this idea when the eminent 
 teacher he had consulted fell into a discussion with the man 
 in Italian, which Caroline did not hear, and Brown himself 
 could not understand, but which evidently turned upon 
 Caroline's performance. They were both delighted with it ; 
 that was evident from the very ardor with which they spoke. 
 Brown was pleased with all this, but Caroline, perhaps, 
 remembered it with greater interest than he had felt, for the 
 young man's face haunted her long after she was settled in 
 the pretty villa, and had made herself at home among the 
 vines and flowers that turned those terraces into a jungle of 
 fruit and blossoms. 
 
 Nothing could be more lovely than the home Brown had 
 chosen, and certainly no place could have been found more
 
 THE ITALIANTEACHER. 51 
 
 completely isolated. The coming of her teachers even 
 became a matter of deep interest to Caroline. 
 
 One morning, when her language-master was expected, 
 she went out early and stocd upon the lower terrace, look- 
 ing down the little stream which led to the Arno, as I have 
 told you, impatient for his coming; impatient to know what 
 sort of a person he would prove, and if his society might 
 not break the monotonous stillness of that beautiful place. 
 It was early yet. She had no reason to believe that her 
 new teacher would he there for hours. She felt it very tire- 
 some, walking up and down those terraces and watching the 
 ripe olives drop one by one into the long grass from the 
 branches overhead. The restlessness of youth was upon 
 her, and she longed for some means of leaping over the next 
 three hours, when the new teacher would come, perhaps 
 with a disappointment. 
 
 He might be some poor old soul, whose very presence 
 would prove an annoyance. No matter; a disappointment 
 or an annoyance was better than utter stagnation. She 
 wished the new man would come, she wished there was 
 something for her to work at till he did come. 
 
 A flight of stone steps fell down to the water from the 
 lower terrace. Fastened to an iron staple sunk deep into 
 the granite, was a. little boat swinging by a cable. Caro- 
 line's heart gave a leap at the sight. 
 
 She ran down the steps, untied the cable, and in a mo- 
 ment was sweeping down the little stream, pulling her oars 
 like an Indian girl. 
 
 It was a lovely flow of water, clear as crystal. The sky 
 was mirrored in it softly blue ; the sun struck it with ar- 
 rows of silver, the flowering shrubs trailed down from its 
 banks, apd rippled the waters like the lost plumage of a 
 peacock j fruit-laden vines broke away from the olive 
 branches, and dipped -their purple clusters in the strenm, 
 3 

 
 52 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 where they shone out richly amethysts gleaming through 
 crystal. Everything was beautiful around her. Full of 
 youth and health she gloried in the exercise of rowing; 
 gloried in the sunshine and quivering shadows through 
 which her pretty boat ploughed its way, breaking up pic- 
 tured trees and clouds, and turning them to foam. 
 
 The current was with her, the wind swept softly down 
 
 Bam, bringing a scent of wall-flowers and jessamines with 
 it. The boat shot downward like the shuttle through a 
 web. The water deepened, the stream grew wider; she 
 could hear the broad, free rush of the Arno, a little way 
 off. Still she went on. 
 
 It would be glorious, finding herself in the broad river 
 sweeping toward Florence, in her arrow-like boat. Of 
 course she could turn at any time, but not yet. 
 
 Something stopped the boat. A wild vine, hidden in 
 the water, had seized upon it, and swept it half around, 
 then a current tossed it forward into a sweeping whirl of 
 waters. She was close by a vortex near the mouth of the 
 river, a ravenous little whirlpool that threatened to swal- 
 low her up. The oars dropped from her hands ; she seized 
 the sides of her boat and sat still, rigid as stone, white as 
 death. Then a great arrow, or what seemed to be one, shot 
 through the water close by her, ploughing it white with 
 foam. Then a man leaped into her boat, pitching a pair of 
 n=t oars in before him, and holding the cable of another boat 
 in his hand. 
 
 He neither spoke nor looked at her, but twisting the 
 cable around one ankle, and setting the other foot upon it 
 further up, seized his oars, and for a minute or two battled 
 like a tiger with the waters. 
 
 The boat rocked, wheeled slowly away from the awful dan- 
 ger, then plunged forward with a shock that brought a sharp 
 cry from Caroline's white lips.
 
 THE ITALIAN TEACHER. 53 
 
 " Do not be afraid. The danger is over." 
 
 She turned her pallid face, and over it came a flash of 
 recognition. It was the man who had listened to her first 
 lesson in Florence. He recognized her, pale as she was, 
 and slackened his oars they were out of danger now. 
 
 "Am I so fortunate ? My pupil ! This is a great hap- 
 piness." 
 
 Caroline leaned forward and held out her trembling 
 hands. Words of gratitude were on her lips, but they 
 only trembled there, without utterance. He leaned over 
 the little hands, as they came quivering toward him, but 
 could not touch them, his own being sufficiently occupied 
 with the oars. 
 
 "There is nothing to fear now sweet lady," he said, in 
 Italian, which never sounded so sweet to her before "The 
 danger is wliolly past but it was danger ! " 
 
 Caroline shuddered ; she almost felt those curling waters 
 sweep over her. The sensation was terrible. 
 
 " And you saved me ? you, whose face I have seen before 
 so often, so often. It seems like that of a friend." 
 
 " Once only once. I wish it had been a thousand times, 
 if that could lessen your fright." 
 
 " Tell me how it was," said Caroline, beginning to recover 
 herself. " I cannot realize it." 
 
 "Nor I, sweet lady, it was all so sudden. I saw a boat 
 whirling toward that treacherous vortex, the flash of a blue 
 mantle, the whiteness of an upturned face. What I did, 
 you know. I cannot tell how it was done ; did not dream 
 who the person was. Now, I long to fall upon my knees 
 and thank God." 
 
 Caroline clasped the hands which had fallen to her lap, 
 bent her head, and unspoken words of thanksgiving 
 trembled in her heart. The man looked upon her eagerly.
 
 54 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 That gentle glow of devotion gave her face the sweetness 
 of a madonna. 
 
 He thought this, and almost dropped the oars, the long- 
 ing to fall down upon his knees by her side was so in- 
 tense. Bp" . 
 
 She saw this, understood it, and smiled for the first 
 time. 
 
 "1 was asking God to forgive me for being gtateful to 
 you before I thought of Him. 
 
 "And I was asking Him to make me grateful enough for 
 having saved you. Surely that should bring his blessing on. 
 us both." ^. 
 
 Caroline bent her head, and a sweet smile crept over her 
 lips. Then she bethought herself of the things of this 
 world, and grew troubled. 
 
 "But 1 am taking you from your "cltarse*. Forgive 
 me!" 
 
 " From my course ? Not so. It was for this purpose I 
 come. Perhaps you are not informed that I am to make 
 your Italian more perfect than it is, which is scarcely 
 needed." 
 
 "You sir! you?" 
 
 She said no more, but her face lighted up, and he saw 
 her hands softly clasp themselves, as if she were thanking 
 God over again. Then his own head bent forward, and he 
 made a great effort with the oars, but it was only to hide 
 the smile that broke over it. 
 
 So up the little river these two people went more and more 
 slowly, for the stillness and the beauty were pleasant beyond 
 anything, and both dreaded the moment when this delicious 
 happiness would end. But they reached the steps at last, 
 and there was Mr. Brown and Eliza, on the lower terrace, 
 in great trouble. 
 
 They had missed her and the boat. Dreading they
 
 THE ITALIAN TEACHER. 55 
 
 scarcely knew what danger, both were anxious to follow 
 her, but they had no means. Thus an hour of keen 
 anxiety had passed, while they stood watching the river. 
 
 "There is your father, looking anxious," said the young 
 man. "I hope he has not suffered much." 
 
 Caroline did not answer him, but sprang to the steps 
 and ran up them, holding out her hands. 
 
 " My child ! my dear, dear child ! " cried Brown, throw- 
 ing both arms around her. 
 
 He often used endearing terms like this when much 
 affected, and she thought nothing of it, but kissed his face, 
 and kissed Eliza also, who scolded her terribly, as was her 
 habit when disturbed by a sudden fit of tenderness a 
 state of feeling she was sure to resent. 
 
 " Father Brown, this is my new teacher. The professor 
 aent him. fie has just saved my life. I have tried to thank 
 him, but could not. You have more power." 
 
 Brown and Eliza both came close to the young man ; but 
 he shook his head, and tried to evade them. After her 
 tender thankfulness, their gratitude, generous and pure as 
 it was, seemed coarse to him. 
 
 "We must begin the lesson," he said, laughing, and 
 drawing a book from his pocket. "This little accident, 
 which was nothing, has made us lose time." 
 
 He said this in Italian, which, of course, silenced them ; 
 and at this moment the man could say nothing which his 
 companion would not confirm. 
 
 Caroline smiled, and went up the steps from terrace to 
 terrace, while he kept by her side. Her color had come 
 back more vividly than ever. The sunshine struck her 
 hair, and turned all its brown to gold. She jvas dressed 
 like a peasant of the better class, with some scarlet in her 
 blue bodice, and more bordering the bottom of her* skirt, 
 Her neck was uncovered, for the blue mantle had fallen off
 
 56 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 and now lay in the bottom of the boat. It was a becoming 
 dress, but not for her she was too queenly. 
 
 They went into that old stone dwelling, forming one 
 group; but the moment the parlor was reached, Eliza went 
 off to her work, she said but if any one had followed her, 
 it would have been to a chamber under the roof, where she 
 was upon her knees fnll twenty minutes, thanking God for 
 Caroline's escape from death. 
 
 Then Brown went away, and seated himself in an arbor 
 on one of the terraces, where he was seen once or twice to 
 take out his handkerchief and wipe his eyes, as if the dust 
 troubled him. 
 
 The man up yonder, brave as he was, had rather evaded 
 his gratitude ; but he knew that God would listen. 
 
 Then Caroline took one of the volumes her new teacher 
 had brought, and retreated to a latticed window, which had 
 a cushioned seat in it large enough for two, though I really 
 do not believe she thought of that. At any rate, he did not 
 accuse her of it, even in his thoughts, but went quietly to 
 the window and took a seat by her side, at which she 
 blushed a little, but did not move. 
 
 Caroline was very well grounded in her Italian ; so, in- 
 stead of grammars, these young people fell to reading the 
 native poets, and began with Tasso a course of studies well 
 calculated to produce more results than one; but Brown 
 did not understand Italian, though he was a splendid musi- 
 cian, and repeated it like a parrot. Besides, what did Eliza 
 know about Tasso, Petrarch, Dante, or any of those wild 
 fellows that disseminate love-poison by the line ? 
 
 When her teacher was ready to go, Brown asked his 
 name. I have no idea that Caroline had thought of it. 
 The young man seemed quite taken aback for a minute, 
 but answered, after that, something that would hJfe 
 sounded like an English name rendered in Italian, had a
 
 THE MOTHER'S OPPOSITION. 57 
 
 thorough Italian scholar been present, which there was not. 
 
 Well, for three months those young people sat twice a 
 week in the seat in the lattice-window, and read the poets 
 together. Need I say more about that? 
 
 At the end of three months Olympia had an engage- 
 ment in London, and sent for Brown to join her there with 
 his charge. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 OF course there is no such tiling as arousing all London 
 into a fit of enthusiasm, because millions of people are not 
 moved at the same moment by anything less than a revolu- 
 tion. But the West End, just then, wanted an excitement, 
 and found it in the coming of Olympia. Her style was new, 
 her action a little too free, perhaps, for the high-bred dames 
 of the aristocracy ; but they all went, and were amused, 
 shocked, fascinated, and went again, but only to keep the 
 young people, they said, from utter demoralization the 
 creature really was irresistible. 
 
 At any rate, Olympia was the fashion, and drew famously, 
 till a rival novelty proclaimed itself. Then she was horror- 
 stricken by seeing a few empty seats in the house. To 
 Olympia, an empty seat was desolation. 
 
 That night Olympia went to her daughter's room the 
 moment she reached her hotel after a late performance. 
 The cloak which she had worn from the theatre still hung 
 about her shoulders. Her cheeks blazed with rouge, her 
 eyes were restless and'anxious.
 
 
 58 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Caroline started up from her sweet sleep, disturbed and 
 almost terrified. 
 
 "What is it, mamma? " she said, holding hack the hair 
 from her lovely face with both hands. " Is any oue ill 
 Mr. Brown?" 
 
 Olympia sat down on her daughter's bed, and drew the 
 cloak around her; not that she was cold, but to show that 
 her resolution was taken. 
 
 "Ho one is ill, Caroline; as for Brown, I know nothing 
 about him. But I come to prepare you ; for this week we 
 shall bring you out. In what opera have you practiced 
 most ? " 
 
 " Bring me out ? Oh, mamma ! " 
 
 The girl fell back on her pillow, dismayed, and clasping 
 both hands, held them out imploringly. 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you had given it up." 
 
 "Foolish child! I never give anything up. Ask 
 Brown." 
 
 It was true ; that woman never gave up her own will to 
 any one. The possibility of sacrifice or willing concession 
 could not enter her mind. 
 
 "But I cannot, I cannot! Oh, mother! think how little 
 I have seen of crowds. To sing before one would kill me !" 
 
 " Mother ! " repeated Olympia, " how often must I tell 
 you that I hate the word ! an American vulgarism !" 
 
 "Forgive me, mamma; it was only because I was so 
 frightened at the idea of singing in public. But I know- 
 that you did not mean it." 
 
 The poor girl made a pitiful attempt at disbelief, and 
 tried to win acquiescence with a timid smile. 
 
 " I not only mean it, but will have no more evasion or 
 protest. When we left New York, you were dying to 
 on the stage." 
 
 " Oh, that was before I knew before I dreamed "
 
 THE MOTHER'S OPPOSITION. 59 
 
 " Before you knew before you dreamed what ? " 
 
 " That it made one so so " 
 
 "Well, speak out!" 
 
 " So unhappy. Indeed, indeed, I cannot say what I 
 mean ; only, I would rather die than put rouge on my face, 
 and oh, forgive me ! I did not mean to make you look so 
 angry ! " 
 
 But Olympia was angry. The prima donna of a com- 
 pany does not usually bear much opposition, even in trifles, 
 and here Olympia had great interests at stake. 
 
 Through the young girl before her she intended to run a 
 second career, and thus crowd the enjoyment of two lives 
 into one. 
 
 " This all comes of Brown," she said. " He would have 
 you kept quiet, and out of the world, pretending that society 
 would distract attention from your practice ; but it was all 
 an artful plan to keep you to himself. I have not been so 
 busy as not to understand that, let me tell him." 
 
 Caroline started up in bed, almost as much excited as the 
 actress. 
 
 There was plenty of good honest character in the girl ; 
 and, if she appeared timid, it was from delicacy, not weak- 
 ness. 
 
 " Yon wrong Mr. Brown. There is not a selfish feeling 
 in his heart. What he does, is always done for my good." 
 
 " Yes ; I suppose it is for your good when he drinks too 
 much 1 " 
 
 There was a sneer on Olympia' s lip, an evil spirit in her 
 eye, which destroyed all its beauty ; but even this did not 
 make the girl shrink ; she only put out both her hands, and 
 turned her head away. 
 
 " Oh ! how can you ? " she cried. ' " I never saw him in 
 my life when he was not in all respects a gentleman." 
 
 "But I have! I have!"
 
 60 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Ah, madam, it is cruel to say this. Mr. Brown was my 
 friend, my only friend, long before before you came and 
 took me away from my poor little home. If you could 
 make me think ill of him, would it be kind ?" 
 
 But he has been treacherous ; he has taught you hatred 
 of the profession which you were so crazy for at one time." 
 " No, no ; it was not Mr. Brown. I saw for myself." 
 " Yes, the dark side ; never in its brightness or its 
 glory. But you shall, you shall." 
 
 Caroline lay back upon her pillow and covered her face 
 with one hand. The sight of that beautiful woman, so hard 
 in her resolve, so completely ignoring all feelings but her 
 own, was hateful to her. 
 
 " Please let me rest to-night," she pleaded. 
 " To-night, yes. It is enough that you understand me 
 now ; but. after this, I shall expect no opposition. If you 
 are so stupidly ignorant of the power which lies in your 
 own beauty and genius, I am not. So try and come to your 
 senses before morning. Good-night." 
 
 The woman went out, with her head aloft, and her cloak 
 trailing behind her, for, in her excitement, she had flung it 
 away from one shoulder, that she might gesticulate with the 
 arm that was free. 
 
 Caroline turned upon her pillow and cried bitterly till 
 morning. 
 
 Olympia was right. The girl had been scrupulously kept 
 from all society that her freshness might be preserved, and 
 her education completed. 
 
 She had been to the theatres, here and there, when some 
 new piece was presented, but it was rather as a study than 
 an amusement; and after a knowledge of the public idol in 
 private life had slowly swept away all the romance of their 
 first meeting, the innate coarseness of this beautiful, selfish 
 woman was not long in revealing itself to the pure-minded
 
 THE MOTHER'S OPPOSITION. 61 
 
 girl, who soon began to grieve that she could not love and 
 still admire the mother she had at first almost worshipped. 
 Olympia, who had found it easy enough to dicate to man- 
 agers, and oppress subordinates, had far different material to 
 act upon when she broke in upon the midnight sleep of the 
 girl Daniel Yates had grounded in the nobility of true 
 womanhood. 
 
 The next day, being Sunday, was Olympia's great day 
 of rest and amusement. She slept till long after mid-day, 
 ate an epicurean breakfast in a little dressing-room with 
 rose-tinted draperies, ran lazily over the pages of some 
 French novel, in the silken depths of a pretty Turkish 
 divan, heaped up with cushions, till long after dark ; then 
 threw herself into the mysteries of a superb toilet, and came 
 into her exquisite little drawing-room like a princess say 
 Marguerite of Navarre ready to entertain the guests, in- 
 variably invited on that evening, in a fashion that made her 
 quite as popular in this particular social strata as she was 
 behind the footlights. 
 
 From these little suppers Caroline had been carefully 
 excluded up to this time ; but the morning after she had 
 left the young girl in tears upon her pillow, Olympia broke 
 into her day of luxurious repose by sending for her agent, 
 with whom she had a rather stormy interview in the dress- 
 ing-room, from which Brown came out pale as death, but 
 with an uprightness of the person, and an expression in the 
 eyes that no one had ever seen there before. 
 
 About an hour after he had departed, Olympia's French 
 maid was seen hurrying up stairs to the chamber which 
 Caroline occupied, and where she stood that moment, just 
 as she had sprung from her chair, with a wild and startled 
 look ; for every knock she heard seemed to come from her 
 mother, whose appearance she dreaded terribly that morn- 
 ing. But, instead of- "Olympia, the French maid came in,
 
 62 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 with a creamy-white dress of India gauze thrown over her 
 arm, its whiteness broken up by the blue ripple of a broad 
 sash, with a purple tinge in it; and in her hands the 
 woman carried some half-open moss-roses, with a delicate 
 perfume absolutely breaking from their hearts, as if they 
 were the outgrowth of a generous soil which they were 
 not, however difficult it might be to decide from a first or 
 second look ; these French are so like nature in everything 
 but themselves. 
 
 The French maid laid these things daintily on Caroline's 
 bed, where the roses glowed out, as if cast upon the crust 
 of a snow-bank. Then, looking upon the girl's magnificent 
 hair, which was simply turned back from her forehead and 
 done in braids behind, she said, with pretty, broken speech : 
 
 "I will do it in crimp and puffs, if mademoiselle pleases. 
 With her face, it will be charming." 
 
 Caroline drew a deep breath, and cast a half-frightened, 
 half-pleased glance at her maid, Eliza, who stood nearby,' 
 looking grimly at preparations she could not understand. 
 This was not half so dreadful as the presence she had ex- 
 pected, and the dress was so lovely that she could not keep 
 her eyes from it. 
 
 "What is it all about?" questioned staunch America, 
 with a look at France which was not altogether friendly. 
 
 "It is," answered the French maid, spreading out her 
 little hands, "It is that madame will have mademoiselle 
 dcwu to her little supper. The evening will be very charm- 
 ing because of mademoiselle." 
 
 Caroline glanced at the blush-roses, and her eyes began 
 to sparkle. Then she caught a glimpse of Eliza's face, and 
 turned her glance resolutely away, looking penitent. Eliza 
 knew something of madame's little suppers, but Caroline 
 did not. If bursts of laughter and a soft tangle of voices 
 sometimes came up to her room in the night, she had no
 
 THE MOTHER'S OPPOSITION. 63 
 
 means of knowing that the noise was not from the servants' 
 hall, and Eliza would have died rather than enlighten her. 
 Besides, she had nothing Absolutely wrong to tell, for some 
 of the first young noblemen in England came to Olympia's 
 little entertainments; and when Eliza heard their names 
 announced she had not a word to sa}^ having lived long 
 enough to attain a reverence for titles. 
 
 In fact, it is doubtful if she did not value her charge a 
 little more highly from the fact that she lived in a house 
 where noblemen came and went with such evident socia- 
 bility. 
 
 At first Eliza had darted fiery glances'at the robe of India 
 gauze, thinking it a theatrical costume; but when she 
 learned that it was only a dress which would introduce her 
 darling into the best society, from which a selfish mother 
 had rigidly excluded her, she allowed her features to relax, 
 and absolutely smiled on the little French woman. 
 
 Then the smile, which had been struggling all the time 
 about Caroline's mouth, broke over her whole face. She 
 could neither keep her hands from the dress or the moss- 
 roses, but touched them daintily, half doubtful, indeed, if 
 they were intended for her. 
 
 "If mademoiselle will please," said the little French 
 woman, drawing a low chair before the dressing-table, and 
 taking an ivory brush, carved at the back like a Chinese 
 puzzle, in her hand. 
 
 Caroline sat down, smiling in spite of herself. Eliza 
 stood a little on One side, resolved to be upon her guard. 
 
 "V^hile she was looking, down came that abundant hair in 
 a torrent, tress apon tress, wave after wave, with tinges of 
 gold rippling through and through the brown. The little 
 French woman held up both hands, brush and all, in 
 astonishment, and burst out in a noisy cataract of French, 
 which delighted Eliza all the more because she could not 
 understand a word of it.
 
 64 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 But Caroline did understand, and this outburst of genu- 
 ine admiration pleased her so much that, in a moment, her 
 face was glowing like a whole thicket of roses, and she 
 hadn't the courage to lift her eyes, from fear that Eliza 
 would see how foolish she was to care about what the little 
 French woman said. 
 
 Eliza saw all this, but it only made that grim smile 
 broader and deeper on her own face; and when the golden- 
 brown hair was frizzed and rolled, and dropped in two rich 
 curls on that white shoulder, she turned her face upon the 
 French woman and said, "Very nice!" in a way that 
 made the little woman put her head on one side, and nod it 
 half a dozen times, while she answered : 
 
 " Yes, I tink so." 
 
 India gauze was dropped like a cloud over Caroline's 
 head ; the sash of purplish blue was girded around her 
 waist, and bunched up in superb bows behind ; then the 
 cloudy stuff was gathered up in drapery from a silken 
 under-skirt, tinted like the sash, and fastened back with 
 clusters of the moss-roses. 
 
 This completed the*toilet. No jewels were there, not 
 even a string of pearls, though Olympia had ropes of them ; 
 and Caroline rather sighed for their completeness when she 
 took a full-length view of herself in the mirror, as foolish 
 girls will, who never learn the value of simplicity and fresh- 
 ness until both are lost. 
 
 Then the little French woman went away to Olympia, 
 giving Caroline plenty of time for reflection. The first 
 thing the girl did was to look shyly at Eliza, who pursed up 
 her lips, and did her best to keep from smiling. Then she 
 took courage, and said : 
 
 "Eliza." 
 I hear," answered the grim hand-maiden. 
 
 "Eliza, do you think he would know me in this dress? 

 
 THE MOTHER'S OPPOSITION. 65 
 
 Or, if so, would he like it, as he did that dear Italian 
 costume? " 
 
 " I dou't know," answered Eliza. "Them Italians have 
 queer notions about dress. ISTow, for my part, them short 
 skirts and low-necked waists did well enough for common- 
 sized girls ; but you're too tall, and carry your head too 
 high, for anything but a skirt that sweeps out and puffs up 
 like that." 
 
 " Still, I shall always like the dear old costume, Eliza. 
 Ob, what a happy, happy life madame broke up when she 
 sent for us ! " _ 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. You seemed to enjoy it ; and as for 
 that young fellow, what with his boating on the river, his 
 shooting birds which I hate on the hills, and his lessons 
 well, really, he might about as well h.ave lived with us." 
 
 "Oh! Eliza, shall we ever be so-, happy again?" cried 
 the girl, kindling up 'with; bright ^riainoraess. - 
 
 "Not just in the same way J.real folk^ flerqr pre. But I 
 suppose people have a pretty eqtoal shaVe of the good and 
 bad things of Kfe, as they go aloag. -Now I haven't an 
 idea but that the young fellow thought all was up with him 
 when hfNgot^th^Jetteryoii left at the house." 
 
 " I should not wonder," said Caroline, and her bosom 
 began to heave with an after-swell of the indignation which 
 had stormed it, when she left Italy at an hour's notice. 
 "It was a cruel thing. I never will forgive you or Mr. 
 Brown. A few hours would have made no difference, and 
 he was coming the next day." 
 
 " What then ? If he was a teacher, Mr. Brown left his 
 money, with two months' overpay." 
 
 " His money!" repeated Caroline, with infinite scorn. 
 
 " If not money, what did he come for " questioned the 
 hand-maiden, sharply. 
 
 "Eliza, you shall nerer think that it degrades him and
 
 66 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 me. He never touched he never thought of money. If 
 Mr. Brown left it, as you say, I am sure he felt insulted." 
 
 " Then what did he come for ? " inquired Eliza, with dry, 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Because because he loved me, and could not live with- 
 out seeing me, because I I " 
 
 " Loved him," said the maid. 
 
 But Caroline had broken down wholly with this first 
 passionate confession. The poor girl sank to a couch, flushed 
 all over with such shame as only a woman of fine sensibili- 
 ties can feel for that of which she has no reason to be 
 ashamed at all. 
 
 "Oh! Eliza, how can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed, 
 dropping her hands, and revealing a face of crimson, wet 
 with tears. " I never meant to keep it from you." 
 
 " Of course, you never meant it, and you didn't do it, 
 which is more. You supposed I didn't know. Men may 
 be blind as bats they usually are ; and our Brown is worse 
 than the commonality. But trust an old maid for spying 
 out a love secret. It's like exploring a strange laud for her, 
 you know. Lord ! Miss Carry, you can't keep a secret from 
 Eliza Casey; but then, why should you ? Isn't she bound 
 to be your staunch friend forever and ever ? " 
 
 These words opened a new source of anxiety to the really 
 unhappy girl, who forgot her love-shame, and plunged at 
 once into a new subject. 
 
 " Oh ! Eliza, if you could help me. Madame is deter- 
 mined. That is, she wishes me to go on the stage." 
 
 " Well, you have been told that from the first." 
 
 " I know I know ; but it seemed so far off then, like 
 death, or any other evil that you know will come, but can- 
 not tell when. But now she says it must be at once. Oh ! 
 Eliza, I never can do it. The very fear of it makes me 
 shudder."
 
 THE MOTHER'S OPPOSITION. 67 
 
 " But why ? I remember, when we first came out here, 
 you had no other wish but to be like her your mother, I 
 mean. Like her! I would rather see you dead !" 
 
 Eliza muttered the last words under her breath, and 
 Caroline only heard the question. 
 
 " Yes, I know. Everything seemed so bright then she 
 brightest of all ; but I was getting to shrink from it before 
 we went up to that dear little villa, and since then it has 
 seemed like death. Oh ! tell her this, Eliza, and beg of her 
 to let me be as I am." 
 
 " But shall I tell her all, and say that is the reason ? " 
 
 " No, no, no ! You may think it. Mr. Brown may 
 think it. That is like myself having a secret ; but do not 
 tell her for the whole world." 
 
 "Tell her! Well, well, I aint likely to; but if she is set 
 upon it, what can I say ? Madame is not a woman to give 
 up her plans, and you have got such a voice! Sometimes 
 I think it would be splendid to see you taking the wind out 
 of her sails." 
 
 " But it would kill me ! " 
 
 " Poor thing ! Well, never mind I will stand by you, 
 right or wrong; but this will be a tough battle. Tell me, 
 though, did that young fellow have anything to do with 
 setting you against the profession ?" 
 
 " There it is, Eliza. He never knew that I thought of 
 it, and used to speak of female performers with such care- 
 less contempt, as if they were ten thousand degrees beneath 
 him." 
 
 "And he only a teacher!" said Eliza, lifting her head in 
 the air. 
 
 "And he only a teacher; but so proud, so sensitive, so 
 regal in all he said or did. Oh ! Eliza, if he knew that 
 Olympia, grand, beautiful, and worshipped as she is, were 
 iny mother, I fear he would never care for me again."
 
 68 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " Why, how on earth could you help that ? " 
 
 " I could not, and it would be wicked to desire it. But, 
 Eliza, I ought to have had the courage to tell him, and I 
 put it off. Every day I said to myself, the very next time 
 he comes, and at last you know how it was. I had no 
 chance, and now I may never see him again. He will 
 always think me Mr. Brown's daughter, and I shall feel like 
 an impostor. I cannot help this; but to go on the stage, 
 when he has said so much against it, that I will not do, 
 unless forced there by my mother's authority." 
 
 "Well, as I said before, I will stand by you, right or 
 wrong ; and so will Mr. Brown, I know. I only wish he 
 was your father." 
 
 "He could not be kinder if he was," said Caroline. 
 
 Just then the door opened, afttd Olympia's French maid 
 looked through. 
 
 "Madame is in the drawing-room, and waits for made- 
 moiselle." 
 
 " I will come ! I will come ! " exclaimed Caroline, breath- 
 lessly, and she hurried down stairs. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GKT INTO A CONJUGAL 
 DIFFICULTY. 
 
 LORD HOPE had a house in Belgravia, that could always 
 be made ready for the family at a day's notice. So Rachael, 
 who could refuse nothing to her brother, sent up her stew- 
 ard to make preparations one day, and followed him the 
 next with Lady Clara and Hepworth Gloss; Margaret 
 Casey and other servants in attendance, of course.
 
 A CONJUGAL DIFFICULTY. 69 
 
 These persons reached London on the very Saturday 
 when Olympia was stricken with dismay by finding an 
 empty seat or two in her usually well packed houses. 
 When this discovery first broke upon the prima donna, 
 Hepworth Gloss was sitting quietly in the pit, where he 
 found himself, as if by accident. They had reached town 
 only in time for a late dinner, when the ladies, being 
 greatly fatigued, proclaimed their intention of retiring 
 early, which was, in fact, casting him adrift for the even- 
 ing. Being thus let loose upon the world, he very natu- 
 rally brought up at the opera, and was seated so near the 
 stage that his eyes more than once caught those of Olym- 
 pia, who gave him one of those quick glances of recogni- 
 tion, which seemed aimed at the whole audience, but hit 
 only one person. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but isn't she a stunner!" said 
 a voice, as the first act closed. Hepworth might not have 
 recognized these words as addressed to himself, but for the 
 weight of a large hand which was laid on his arm. As it 
 was, he turned promptly, and encountered a stout, heavy 
 man, handsomely dressed, but for a massive gold chain 
 which passed across his bosom into his vest pocket, and 
 drooped in glittering lengths far down the rotundity of his 
 capacious person, and a large diamond that blazed on his 
 plaited shirt bosom. From the chain and the diamond, 
 Hepworth's first thought was, that the person must be 
 some Californian or Australian acquaintance, belonging to 
 his old mining days, but the man soon set that idea aside. 
 
 " You don't happen to remember me, Mr. Hepworth, but 
 I knew you at the first sight. Ask my lady here. Didn't 
 I say, Mrs. Stacy, that gentleman with the coal-black 
 mustacher, and them splendid eyes, is Mr. Hepworth, if 
 ever I set my two eyes on Mr. Hepworth, which I did many 
 a time, when he used to come to Forty-third street?"
 
 70 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Hepworth started. Forty-third street! Was he to be 
 forever haunted by the place and people connected with 
 that awful tragedy ? Why was this ? The guilt was not 
 his, yet he could not feel himself near any person, however 
 remotely connected with it, without thrills of dread. 
 
 The man had been talking on, but Hepworth heard no- 
 thing at first, he had been too painfully startled; when he 
 did listen, these words fell on his ear : 
 
 " That was an awful affair, Mr. Hepworth ; most people 
 was astonished, but I never was ; always had my suspicions 
 of that old woman ; believe she robbed the house of lots 
 and lots of things, after the lady was dead ; in fact, am 
 sure of it. Mrs. Stacy here is of my opinion. There was 
 a girl in the house perhaps you remember her, sir Mag- 
 gie we used to call her ; she and the. old woman Yates was 
 thick as thieves, and both laid their heads together. It 
 wasn't for nothing, let me tell you ; their nests were feath- 
 ered, you may believe. There never was a sharper girl 
 than Maggie Casey." 
 
 " She was just a forerd, iinperdent cretur as set her cap 
 at you like a fiery draggon," broke out the woman, who 
 occupied a seat by the stout man, and was evidently his 
 wife ; " a cretur as I wouldn't wipe my shoes on, after a 
 long walk no, not if she'd give me fifty pair for doing 
 of it." 
 
 " I am not saying anything to the contrary, my dear, am 
 I? That 'girl was after me sharp enough, but I never 
 encouraged her. Mr. Hepworth can satisfy you on that 
 point, my own Harriet, for I remember, as if it was yester- 
 day, he and I talking about it the very day afore that mur- 
 der, and we both agreed that her conduct was scandalous." 
 
 Hepworth shuddered. How well he remembered that 
 artful conversation. How hideous it appeared to him now. 
 
 "But I don't think Mr. Hepworth remembers us for
 
 A CONJUGAL DIFFICULTY. 71 
 
 positive, even now,'*' said the woman; "just look in my 
 face, young gent, and say if you do." 
 
 " Harriet, my dear, isn't that a little, just a little, pro- 
 miscous?" said the husband, as a broad, red face, with a 
 pointed nose, turning up in the centre, and two small leaden 
 blue eyes looking across it, was bent forward, and challenged 
 Hepworth's inspection. " Remember, things have changed 
 since we knew tflis gentleman." 
 
 " In course they have changed, and I haven't no doubt 
 that is just what is a puzzling him now; but when I ask 
 Mr. Hepworth if he remembers the first punken-pie he 
 ever eat in his born days, and who made it, he'll be sure to 
 remember Harriet, and I ain't ashamed to say that I am 
 her, if I do wear an Injur shawl, and if that diment in 
 your bozzom is a flashing right in his eyes. Self-made 
 men, and women too, mayn't be of much account in Eng- 
 land, but in New York, the aristocracy are always a trying 
 to make out that they were born next door to the al ins- 
 house, and started life with just twenty-five cents in their 
 pockets, so you and I needn't be ashamed." 
 
 Hepworth was not cosmopolitan, and managed to get the 
 truth out of this confusion of cockney, Irish, and Yankee 
 dialect. In fact, at the first moment, he had recognized 
 Matthew Stacy and Harriet Long in the persons who 
 claimed his acquaintance, and they stung his memory like 
 a nest of serpents. 
 
 " You'll be glad to know," said Stacy, " that Harriet has 
 been, in all respects, up to the 'casion whenever I've made 
 a rise in the world. There's smartness in that woman, I 
 can tell you. When I was elected alderman of our ward, 
 she just went into the saloon and dealt out licker to my 
 constituents with her own hand. There is no telling the 
 number of votes she got for me by that perseeding. You'd 
 be astonished."
 
 72 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Here tbe curtain went up with a rush, and Stacy could 
 only make himself heard by sharp whispers, which reached 
 Hepworth in fragments, when the music sank lowest. 
 
 "Got into a first-rate thing. Mayor with us street 
 contracts cut through, widened got hold of a dead charter 
 revived it stock went up like winking kept the Irish 
 vote of the ward in my fist no counting the presents that 
 woman got. I never took one, of course ; such a woman ! " 
 
 Here Olympia's voice swept through the house, with an 
 outpouring of melody that brought the audience to its feet, 
 but when the tumult subsided, Hepworth found that the 
 man had been talking on and on, with an under-tow of 
 political gossip, that reached him in words at last. 
 
 "They wanted the Legislature, which wasn't to be had 
 without money, you know ; two or three men had been seen 
 nothing less than a hundred thousand would do it. I 
 was president of the board, went up myself, saw the mem- 
 bers, who sent me to their confidential men jackals we call 
 'em, ha ! ha ! got it done for sixty thousand said nothing, 
 but divided the rest jackals got twenty, the other twenty 
 you understand. She got an Inger shawl out of that opera- 
 tion, the very one she has on." 
 
 "No, it isn't nothing of the sort. This one was the 
 other," whispered Mrs. Stacy, holding up a corner of the 
 magnificent shawl she wore.' 
 
 Hepworth turned and gazed upon the shawl until his face 
 grew white as death, in the gaslight. The very sight of 
 that rich garment made him faint. 
 
 The mistake he had made had a silencing effect upon 
 Stacy too. He had no wish that the history of that garment 
 should be produced, and when his wife was about to speak, 
 silenced her at once. 
 
 " My dear Harriet," he said, " how often have I told you 
 that talking at a theater or the operer is awfully vulgar. I
 
 A CONJUGAL DIFFICULTY. 73 
 
 wonder you can persist in it, and Mr. Hepworth by. Just 
 listen to that music! Haven'b you no taste? If you 
 haven't, just take a look around the boxes. That young fel- 
 ler there is the Prince of Wales." 
 
 Mrs. Stacy took a mother-of-pearl opera glass from her 
 lap, and obediently turned it upon the royal box. 
 
 Before the performance was over, and while Hepworth 
 was drawn back, in spite of himself, to the most painful 
 scenes of his life, an usher came down the nearest passage, 
 and put a little twisted note into his hand. It was from 
 Olyrnpia, inviting him to supper the next evening. 
 
 Hepworth crushed the pretty missive in his hand, while 
 he turned to send a verbal refusal, but the usher had with- 
 drawn, and he had no other way of sending a reply that 
 night. 
 
 The opera was at its close now, and Hepworth left the 
 house, irritated and restless. Could he find no place in 
 which this miserable past would not haunt him ? He had 
 hardly made his way through the crowd when his arm was 
 seized, and Stacy almost wheeled him around on the pave- 
 ment. 
 
 "My dear sir, this way. Mrs. Stacy is already in the 
 carriage. Of course we would not ride and let you go afoot. 
 Have been a poor man myself once needn't deny that to 
 you. Know what it is to keep up a show without capital. 
 But no old friend of mine shall go afoot while I have the 
 wherewith to pay for a carriage, and an empty seat in it. 
 Shall set in the back seat with Mrs. Stacy, upon my soul 
 you shall, and that's an honor I don't offer to every man. 
 Now just tell me where you are putting qp." 
 
 Hepworth laughed, jn spite of his annoyance. The pat- 
 ronizing fussiness of the ex-alderman struck a keen sense of 
 the ridiculous, which was strong in his character. 
 
 "If you insist," he said. "But you are too generous."
 
 74 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "Not at all, not at all. When Alderman Stacy does a 
 thing, he does it handsomely. This way, this way !" 
 
 Hepworth seated himself in the carriage where Mrs. Stacy 
 squeezed herself in one corner, and gathered up her skirts 
 to make room for him, and Stacy had his foot on the step, 
 when a new poster, just placed at the door of the opera 
 house, struck his attention, and ho stepped back to examine 
 it. 
 
 "'First appearance of a young American, a protege of 
 Olympia.' Just read that poster, Mr. Hepworth, and tell 
 me what you think of it," he said, lifting himself into the 
 carriage. "Mrs. Stacy, my dear, just look that way, and 
 tell me if you can guess who it is that will mako a first ap- 
 pearance Monday night? You know that young lady, and 
 so does Mr. Hepworth. Now, make a guess." 
 
 "How can you?" said Mrs. Stacy. " You know, Mat- 
 thew, dear, I never was good at conundrums and such like." 
 
 Matthew puffed himself out with a deep, long breath, and 
 clasping two huge hands encased in flame-colored gloves 
 on his knee, leaned toward Hepworth. 
 
 " You try, now." 
 
 Hepworth shook his head, and Stacy burst out with his 
 mystery. 
 
 "It's the identical child that was brought up at the 
 inquest in Forty-third street Daniel Yat.es' little daughter." 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed Mrs. Stacy. " That little creature ? " 
 
 " It ain't nobody else you may bet high on that, Mrs. 
 Stacy." 
 
 Hepworth kept perfectly still, but his heart fairly stopped 
 beating. 
 
 " But how did you find out, Matthew, dear ? " 
 "Oh! we aldermen find out everything. Th=) girl was 
 brought up in the country, near Sing-Sing, in a cedar-post 
 cottage that the executor wanted to raise some money on.
 
 A CONJUGAL DIFFICULTY. 75 
 
 I went up to see it, and had a good look at the girl. Yes, 
 my dear, she was, to say, very handsome, but proud. Dan- 
 iel Yates had brought her up like a queen, and I give you 
 my word she looked it ; but there was no mistake about it. 
 The executor had just gobbled up everything Yates left, and 
 there was no one to look look after him, ao that the girl was 
 just nowhere financial!} 7 . I found out that the cottage could 
 not be sold or mortgaged, nor let either, according to law, 
 though the executor tried it on hard, and came again and 
 again about it, especially after she left it. So I found out 
 everything about the girl. That primer donner took a fancy 
 to her, and adopted her right out of hand because of her 
 voice, and to-morrow night you can both of you see her, for 
 I mean to have a box up among the British arrestocracy 
 that night, and I invite you both free gratis for nothing." 
 
 "Are you sure of this?" questioned Hepworth, who had 
 not spoken till now. 
 
 " Just as sure as I am that Alderman Stacy sits before 
 you. But if you don't believe it, ask the girl yourself. I 
 mean to call on her, and Mrs. Stacy will do likewise. You 
 can go along. That is, we will call, if she comes out first 
 chop on Monday night." 
 
 " Mr. Stacy," said the superb matron in the back seat, 
 drawing herself up with wonderful. dignity, "I don't mean 
 to put on airs nor nothing because I'm your lady and richer 
 than some folks, or Mr. Hepworth wouldn't be an honored 
 guest in this here carriage ; but I must set my foot square 
 aginst actresses and primmer donners in short, theatre- 
 clers in general." 
 
 "Just you hear that," said Stacy, looking at Hepworth. 
 " Isn't she coming it down strong, and lifting of her head 
 high?" 
 
 "It isn't that, Mr. Stacy, but because I am a wife and a 
 a woman that 1 feel called upon to stand between them
 
 76 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 creturs and the sect. Pay them your money, Mr. Stacy 
 pay them any amount of money from the front but noth- 
 ing beyond that, Mr. Stacy ! " 
 
 " Oh, humbug," said Mr. Stacy ; " that is putting it too 
 strong, Harriet as if I couldn't pay money or not, just as 
 I please." 
 
 "It isn't humbug, Mr. Stacy, but a question of benig- 
 nant morality, which it is every woman's duty to take up 
 and hurl back, till she totters on the brink, martyr-like, 
 between heaven and earth ! Don't you think so, Mr. Hep- 
 worth ? " 
 
 "Did you ever hear anything up to that?" exclaimed 
 Stacy, swelling with pompous satisfaction. " Harriet is 
 the sort of woman that a man of substance can depend on, 
 morrerly, financierly, and and . Not that I'm going to 
 give in, you know; but it's satisfaction to know that your 
 money has lifted such a person into her proper spear." 
 
 " That's very kind of you, and I feel it, Stacy, dear ; but 
 when you speak of lifting me up with your money, who was 
 it that owned the first five hundred dollars you, or me, Mr. 
 Stacy?" 
 
 " Harriet ! " 
 
 "It's no use thundering out my baptismal name against 
 me, Mr. Stacy, for that's a thing I won't bear at no price ! 
 Truth is truth, Mr. Hepworth, and rich as that man is, 
 rolling over and over in gold, like a porpose in salt water, 
 it was my five hundred dollars that did it ! Let him say if 
 I didn't own that much ? " 
 
 " But didn't I marry you, and then didn't you own me ? 
 Would you set down good looks, financial ability, and moral 
 character A number one, at five hundred dollars, and 
 you " 
 
 What was coming next Hepworth was destined never to 
 learn, for Mrs. Stacy, overcome by a fit of conjugal remorse,
 
 THE t)PERATIC SUPPER. 77 
 
 leaned forward and placed one substantial hand in the 
 flame-colored glove of her husband. 
 
 " Matthew, forgive me ! I didn't mean it. That men- 
 tion of the primmer donner and her protager upset me ; but 
 I am your wife yet, Stacy, dear your true and lawful wife 
 just as ready to travel with you into every tropical cli- 
 mate of Europe as I ever was." 
 
 Stacy would not clasp his flame-colored fingers around 
 that hand, but let it drop with ignominious looseness, while 
 he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and buried his face 
 in it. 
 
 " Harriet ! Harriet ! you have hurt my feelings, mortified 
 my my manhood before an old friend ! " 
 
 It was in the night, the carriage was close, the lamps 
 dim, and Hepworth only knew that there a heap of drapery 
 launched itself into the front seat, that a voice came from 
 the midst, saying : 
 
 " Oh, Matthew ! Matthew ! " 
 
 Then the white handkerchief dropped like a flag at half 
 mast, and the reconciliation was complete. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE OPERATIC SUPPER. 
 
 " INDEEB, Mr. Gloss, I insist ! " 
 
 " But, my dear child, I have no particular desire to 
 
 go-" 
 
 " That is because you think that I care about it. Why 
 should I ? In fact, it is unbearable that you should have 
 the idea." 
 
 Hepworth Gloss had in all loyalty told Lady Clara of the
 
 78 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 invitation he had received from Olympia, and, instead of 
 resenting it as he expected, she met his vague desire more 
 than half-way one of the wisest things any woman can 
 do, for half the sins in the world are committed because 
 they are forbidden ; not that this young girl knew of the 
 wisdom. With her, it was half pride, half bravado ; she 
 was indignant that Hepworth should think of going more 
 indignant that he should have refused the invitation at 
 once, without telling her of it. 
 
 The result was, she insisted on his accepting it, though 
 her heart was burning with jealousy all the time. 
 
 Gloss, as I have said somewhere, had learned many 
 things in his travels ; but in Japan and the frontier countries 
 of America girls like Clara had not often come under his 
 observation, and he was far too deeply in love for a cool ex- 
 amination of her character or actions. 
 
 So her impulse of unbounded generosity deceived him 
 utterly, and having some shrinking curiosity regarding 
 Daniel Yates' daughter, he resolved to accept Olympia's 
 invitation. 
 
 Of course, Clara found a dozen absurd reasons for quar- 
 reling with him that day, not one of which seemed to re- 
 late to Olympia ; yet that beautiful woman was the root of 
 them all, if Hepworth could have understood it. 
 
 But he only comprehended that every room in that 
 sumptuous dwelling was dull as a wilderness on that partic- 
 ular Sabbath day. Kachael kept her room; Clara would 
 not make herself agreeable ; and he felt it a relief when 
 night came and took him to the little bijou of a mansion 
 where Olympia was waiting the advent of her guests. 
 
 Hepworth had seen this woman in New York, and knew 
 something of the fantastic elegance with which she could 
 surround herself; but the house he entered surpassed any- 
 thing he had ever seen in that republican city.
 
 THE OPERATIC SUPPER, 79 
 
 Nothing sad or even grave in art or nature was ever per- 
 mitted to visit the Queen of Song in her own home. Her 
 servants were expected to be smiling and cheerful. There 
 was not a sombre corner in her dwelling. 
 
 The very hall was a marvel of art ; statuettes of snow- 
 white marble, airy and graceful as stone could be chiselled, 
 seemed ready to escort the guest into the unique drawing- 
 room beyond. 
 
 Delicate bric-a-brac occupied gilded brackets on the 
 walls, or crowded the statuettes upon the floor; a laughing 
 faun held back the silken curtain that concealed the en- 
 trance to that inner room where the goddesss herself pre- 
 sided ; a soft mellow light fell upon these treasures, making 
 their beauty still more exquisite. 
 
 A servant in silver and blue livery admitted Hepworth, 
 and pointed to the faun, who seemed inviting him forward 
 with a fantastic gesture. 
 
 The servant disappeared, his duties ended when the outer 
 door was opened. 
 
 Those who visited Olympia were supposed to know their 
 way to her presence. Hepworth lingered a moment in the 
 hall. Those beautiful marble people seemed enticing him to 
 stay, and, for the instant, he felt an unaccountable reluc- 
 tance to present himself before the actress ; a feeling of hu- 
 miliation came upon him that he should be willing to visit 
 any woman whom the lady of his love could not meet on 
 equal terms. What right had he there ? 
 
 This question was almost upon his lips, when a silken 
 rustle made him hold his breath. It was a young girl, tall, 
 %tately, beautiful, coming down the marble stairs. He was 
 standing near the centre of the floor, but drew back, step by 
 step, as the girl descended, turning white and cold, as if 
 there had been some wrong in his admiration of an antique
 
 80 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 group in bronze, which occupied a bracket on the wall close 
 by him. 
 
 The girl paused, looked toward him, and, after a little 
 hesitation, crossed the hall. 
 
 "Permit me to show you the way," she said. "The 
 servant should not have left you so." 
 
 Hepworth did not speak, but stood gazing upon her 
 blankly. Her beauty had struck him dumb. 
 
 She made a little gesture with her hand and moved on. 
 He followed, without a word, by the marble faun, through 
 the lifted curtains, and into the presence of Olympia, who 
 was walking up and down the Gobelin carpet, with the 
 light of a Venetian chandelier falling over her. 
 
 She was becoming impatient for the arrival of her guests. 
 Yet the room seemed peopled fully ; for, on every hand, 
 mirrors that seemed framed in a network of gold, threw back 
 and duplicated the group that stood there, the rich coloring 
 of the draperies, two vases of Malachite and Sevres, the 
 gifts of emperors, and the carpet, where masses of blossoms 
 seemed starting into fresh bloom, wherever a footstep trod 
 them down. 
 
 " Mr. Hepworth ! " cried Olympia ; " my good American 
 friend ! This is a happiness ! " 
 
 Hepworth bowed over the white hand she held out ; but 
 did not kiss it, as she might have expected, being used to 
 all sorts of homage. 
 
 She looked at him in pleasant astonishment, dropped her 
 hand with a faint laugh, and turned to the young girl. 
 
 " Caroline, you have never seen Mr. Hepworth, I think." 
 
 " Gloss, Hepworth Gloss, dear lady ; you forget." 
 
 "Do I? Well, it is very likely, though, I am sure, we 
 always called you Hepworth ; but that's nothing ; in our 
 Bohemian set we generally preferred the given name, and
 
 THE OPERATIC SUPPER. 81 
 
 sometimes only took half of that. Ah, ho ! here come our 
 friends at last ! " 
 
 The curtain was flung back, revealing what seemed a 
 crowd in the hall, which soon came forward, with little 
 ceremony, and some rather riotous noise. 
 
 Olympia was in her element now. Heart and soul she 
 loved society, and all these persons were picked people of 
 her own choice brilliant persons in their various capacities, 
 each bringing a store of wit or some accomplishment to 
 swell the general gaiety. Artists, dilettanti noblemen, epi- 
 cures, and persons who would have accompanied Orpheus in 
 all his explorations for the music he could give them. 
 
 Of course, there was high mirth and some sparkling wit 
 among a group like this, in which several females mingled 
 brilliantly, and sang like sirens after Olympia had set them 
 the example! These were professional, of course, but won- 
 derfully clever, and talked charmingly, as women who are 
 reckless of criticism usually do; but in all that was said, a 
 certain Vein of doubtful license sometimes brought the color 
 to Caroline's cheek. She could not thoroughly understand 
 the conversation of these people. They seemed to have 
 come out of another world to astonish and bewilder her. 
 She knew that some of the men present were noblemen, 
 and saw that their manners, and even the tones of their 
 voices, changed when they addressed her. 
 
 From the secluded life she had led, this girl was inca- 
 pable of making quick comparisons. She only knew that 
 none of these men possessed the gentle tenderness or the 
 proud bearing of the teacher, who had become to her a 
 beau-ideal of true manhood. Of all the men present she 
 felt the most sympathy with Hepworth Gloss. He had 
 been in America, had known the places she loved so well, 
 and could understand her loneliness in a scene like that ;
 
 82 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 but there was something even in this man that startled her 
 a little. 
 
 His fine eyes were frequently lifted to her face with a 
 look that troubled her, a look that seemed to go beyond her 
 and far away into the past or future. What was he think- 
 ing of? Why were his answers about America so dreamy 
 and vague ? Why did he look so sad while the voice of 
 Olympia was filling the whole house with such glorious 
 bursts of music ? 
 
 Before she could answer any of these questions, Olympia 
 arose from the piano, and, with a light wave of her hand, 
 said : 
 
 " Come, Caroline, let them hear what is in your voice." 
 
 How careless and natural it all seemed ! What a tumult 
 of smiles and entreaties followed these few caressing words ! 
 
 They were words of iron to that proud, shrinking girl. 
 She knew how much of stern, selfish power lay under the 
 peach-like softness of that voice. Her color went and 
 came ; her lips parted in absolute terror. She understood 
 now why she had been permitted to join her mother's 
 guests for the first time. 
 
 " Come, my darling ! " 
 
 Olympia's voice grew softer, sweeter ; but there was an 
 undertone in it that Caroline dared not disobey. She arose, 
 white and cold, her limbs trembling, her eyes turned upon 
 Olympia like those of a hunted doe appealing for its life ; 
 but there was no relenting in that beautiful face nothing 
 but smiles. 
 
 Hepworth Gloss saw how cruelly the proud girl suffered, 
 and was by her side in an instant. The firm clasp of his 
 hand, as he led her to the piano, gave her strength. She 
 thanked him with a look, and those frightened eyes im- 
 plored him to stay by her, as if he were the only friend she 
 recognized in the room.
 
 THE OPERATIC SUPPER. 83 
 
 It must be a terrible fright that can entirely overcome 
 real genius. 
 
 The first notes of Caroline's voice trembled out from her 
 lips like the cry of a young bird when it first tempts the air. 
 The intense stillness with which the little group listened, 
 took away her breath. But all this passed away ; her voice 
 gathered up its tones and swelled into a power of music 
 that Olyinpia, in her best days, had never reached. She 
 forgot the people around her forgot everything but the 
 glorious genius which thrilled her whole being with ecstasies 
 of harmony. The nightingale, nested in clustering roses 
 and bathed with moonlight, never poured forth its song 
 with a sweeter impulse. 
 
 At first it was the desperation of genius, but that soon 
 merged itself into an exquisite power that held her little 
 audience in amazement. 
 
 Olympia grew restless. Had she, with her own hands, 
 given her crown and sceptre to another? How superbly 
 beautiful the creature looked with that glow of inspiration 
 on her face ! How her own devoted adorers crowded 
 around the piano, leaving her on the outskirts of the crowd 
 quite alone ! 
 
 The woman's self-love and most active vanity were dis- 
 turbed ; but above that rose another passion that had of 
 late years grown strong within her avarice. She recog- 
 nized the sure ring of gold in those notes, and exulted 
 over it. 
 
 As Caroline turned from the piano flushed, and, as it 
 were, inspired by a new life, a little storm of bravos broke 
 over her. Just then the supper-room was thrown open ; 
 but even the exquisite picture it presented failed to draw 
 the crowd from its new idol. 
 
 But Caroline was falling back to her normal state, and all 
 $his tumultuous admiration terrified her. 
 5
 
 84 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 This annoyed Olympia, also. She made a signal to the 
 servant who stood waiting, and his announcement, in a 
 loud voice, that supper was served, broke up the crowd 
 which held Caroline prisoner. 
 
 Olympia led the way into the most superb little supper- 
 room that even an artist could imagine. It was, in fact, a 
 temple, connected only by one compartment with the 
 house. 
 
 A shallow dome, with ground glass, through which a 
 tender light shone like sunbeams through sifted snow, 
 by a gilded network over ground glass, which also reflected 
 hidden lights like a chain of clouded stars. 
 
 This gallery was connected with the floor by slender 
 marble shafts, around which passion flowers, white jes- 
 samines, creeping dwarf roses, and other clinging plants 
 wove their blossoms up to the lighted gallery, whence they 
 fell in delicate spray, forming arches of flowers all around 
 the room. 
 
 The recesses thus garlanded in were lined with mirrors, 
 in which the crimson cushions of couch and chair, the 
 splendid supper table, with all its rich paraphernalia of 
 frosted plate, sparkling glass, translucent wines, and fruit in 
 all its mellow gorgeousness of coloring were reflected over 
 and over again. 
 
 When that gay crowd came into the room, led by 
 Olympia, every recess seemed to fill with its own merry 
 company, and in each that handsome prima donna presided 
 like a goddess ; while the tall figure of a proud, beautiful 
 girl sat near, looking strangely wild and anxious as a loud, 
 bacchanalian spirit broke into the scene, and turned it into 
 a revel. Amid the gurgle of wine and the mellow crush of 
 fruit, some one called out : 
 
 " Fill up ! fil] up I A bumper to our new Queen of 
 Song!"
 
 THE OPERATIC SUPPER. 85 
 
 With a half-suppressed shout and a waving of glasses, 
 the party sprang up, drops of amber and ruby wine rained 
 down to the table from a reckless overflow of the uplifted 
 goblets. 
 
 Every recess gave back the picture with endless change 
 of view; and then the voice called out again : 
 
 " To-morrow night we will show her how England can 
 receive American genius and American beauty. Lady, we 
 drink to you." 
 
 To-morrow night ! Every vestige of color fled from that 
 poor girl's face. She attempted to rise, supported herself 
 with one hand on the table a moment, then in the midst of 
 that riotous toast, sank back to her chair, with her face 
 turned imploringly on Hepworth Gloss. 
 
 When the revellers had drained their glasses and turned 
 to look for a reward in the face they had pronounced divine, 
 it had disappeared. Amid the confusion, Hepworth had led 
 Caroline from the room. 
 
 " It is too much for her," said Olympia, tossing half a 
 dozen peaches on the table in her search for the mellowest. 
 " She is such a noble, grateful creature, and has not yet 
 learned how to receive homage." 
 
 " While our Olympia almost disdains it. Fill up for our 
 goddess, The Olympia ! " 
 
 "Wait a minute!" 
 
 It was the young noble next the actress who spoke. He 
 had taken some grape-leaves from a crystal vase near him, 
 and was weaving the smallest amber-hued and purple 
 clusters with them in a garland, with which he crowned the 
 goddess before her libation was poured out. She accepted 
 the homage, laughing almost boisterously, and when the 
 grape-wreath was settled in her golden hair, stood up, a 
 Bacchante that Rubens would have worshipped ; for it made
 
 86 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 no difference to her in what form adulation came, so long 
 as she monopolized it. 
 
 That moment Caroline was lying upon her bed up-stairs, 
 shaking in every limb, and crying in bitterness of spirit. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 had selected an auspicious time for the first 
 appearance of her protege, as she always persisted in calling 
 Caroline. 
 
 It was the fashion just then to recognize American 
 genius with something like enthusiasm, and the very sud- 
 denness with which this young girl had been brought for- 
 ward operated in her favor. 
 
 A glowing account of her voice and beauty had reached 
 the public just at a time when no special excitement occu- 
 pied it, and this served to draw a crowd around the opera 
 house long before the hour of opening. 
 
 On the outskirts of this crowd, the carriage which con- 
 tained Olympia and her victim for such the heroine of the 
 evening really was made its waj r toward the stage doo*. 
 Olympia leaned out of the window, and cried exultingly: 
 
 " Look, child, look ! Hundreds of people waiting 
 already !" 
 
 Caroline cast one frightened glance at the crowd, and 
 shrank back with a faint moan. 
 
 Just as the audience began to pour in through the 
 opened doors the carriage drove up to the stage entrance, 
 and Olympia took a leap from the steps and held the car- 
 riage door open with her own hand, while Caroline de-
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 87 
 
 scended more slowly. The light from a neighboring lamp 
 fell upon her face, and revealed the tears that stood upon 
 her cheeks, and a half rebellious look in the eyes, which 
 Olympia saw, and met with angry bitterness. 
 
 " Crying again ? Shooting spiteful looks at me, as if I 
 were a monster, instead of a tender, considerate, self-sacri- 
 ficing mother, ready to share everything with you, even my 
 glory ! Was ever such ingratitude ? " 
 
 Caroline did not answer, but walked into the narrow door, 
 and stood upon the dreary stage, panting for breath, like 
 some superb animal from the wild woods, hunted down, and 
 without hopes of escape. 
 
 " This way come this way," said Olympia, taking hold 
 of her arm. " Perhaps you will remember that we are late. 
 The audience was crowding in like a torrent when we 
 passed the door. Come ! " 
 
 Caroline allowed herself to be led along the stage, through 
 yawning vistas of scenery ready placed for use, and along 
 dark passages, until she came to Olympia's dressing-room, in 
 which a blaze of light was reflected by half-a-dozen mirrors, 
 and fell like sunshine on a pile of gorgeous vestments laid 
 out for her use. 
 
 Caroline shrank back with a faint, sick feeling. Ob, 
 how everything had changed since she was so fascinated by 
 a scene like that ! Her delicate, proud nature revolted 
 from the splendid confusion. From her very heart she 
 loathed the sumptuous garments with which Olympia had 
 hoped to tempt her. 
 
 " Is there no hope ? " she cried, desperately. " I would 
 rather suffer anything than undertake this part !" 
 
 " Hope ? Yes, there is everything to hope. The house 
 is crowded already. There never was so fine an opening. 
 Come, make ready ! " 
 
 " Not if I have the power to resist."
 
 88 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 She spoke in a low but resolute voice, which frightened 
 Olympia, who stood gazing at the pale young face turned 
 upon her with a frown of terrible anger gathering on her 
 forehead. 
 
 "Caroline, you cannot resist. My word is given, the 
 contract signed, my honor pledged. Would you disgrace 
 me forever ? " 
 
 "Your honor pledged, and I belong to you," said the 
 girl. " I see, I see there is no escaping ! It is my miser- 
 able destiny ! " 
 
 Caroline took off the cloak in which she was wrapped, 
 flung down all her magnificent hair, and seated herself 
 before one of the mirrors. 
 
 " Do with me as you please," she said, turning a weary 
 glance upon the mirror. "It may be my death, but you 
 will have it so." 
 
 The next moment that unhappy girl found herself in the 
 hands of a clever French maid, who fairly revelled in her 
 task, as she shook out that rich mass of hair, and held it up 
 for the light to shine through. But Caroline took no heed. 
 The toilet only reminded her of that most hideous one 
 when Marie Antoinette was prepared for the scaffold. For 
 the moment she almost wished it possible to change places 
 with that unhappy woman. 
 
 But the French waiting-maid went .on with her work, 
 while Olympia stood by, directing her. 
 
 Not till she felt a soft touch on her cheek did the girl 
 rebel. Then she started up, and, pushing the maid away, 
 rubbed her cheek with a handkerchief so resolutely that the 
 maid clapped her hands, declaring that it was enough no 
 roses could be more lovely. 
 
 Then she fell to her task again, muttering to herself: 
 
 " Oh, it will come in time ! Youth is so satisfied with 
 itself. But it all ends in that."
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 89 
 
 Here the maid nodded toward a tiny jar of rouge, as if to 
 encourage it, and went on with her task. 
 
 " Now look at yourself ! " said Qlympia, tossing aside 
 some garment that had been flung over the swinging-glass. 
 " What do you think of that ? " 
 
 Caroline looked, and saw a beautiful woman, with sweep- 
 ing garments of rose-colored silk, and a cloud of frost-like 
 lace flung over her head and trailing down her shoulders. 
 Splendid jewels whether real or false, she did not care to 
 ask twinkled like stars through the lace, both on her head 
 and bosom. The pictures thus reflected were beautiful, but 
 stormy. 
 
 Olympia saw that the rebellious spirit was but half 
 subdued. 
 
 " What can I do ? " she said, in her perplexity, address- 
 ing the maid, who lifted up both hands and shook her head 
 as she answered : 
 
 " Ah, rnadame ! if a toilet like that fails, who can say ? " 
 
 " I will send for Brown. She will listen to him," said 
 Olympia, driven to desperation. "With that spirit, she 
 will never get the rollicking air for her first act." 
 
 She went to the door, and found the teacher lingering 
 near, restless and anxious almost as herself. 
 
 " Brown I say, Brown come in ! She is dressed, but 
 so obstinate ! If she were about to play Norma, it would 
 be worth everything, but in this part ! Do come in, dear 
 Brown, and get her up to the proper feeling." 
 
 Brown entered the room in absolute distress. He would 
 gladly have kept that young creature from the stage ; but 
 having no power to aid her in avoiding it, was nervously 
 anxious that she should make a success. 
 
 Caroline turned to him at once, and came forward with 
 her hands held out. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Brown, Kelp me ! It is not too late. Let
 
 90 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 them say I am sick. Indeed, indeed, it will be true ! She 
 can take the part, and leave me in peace. Ask her, beg of 
 her ; say that I will go into her kitchen, be her maid, go 
 out as a teacher anything on earth, if she will only spare 
 me this once ! Ask her, Mr. Brown. Sometimes she will 
 listen to you ! " 
 
 Brown held both her hands. They were cold as ice, and 
 he felt that she was trembling all over. 
 
 " My dear, dear child ! I have pleaded with her. I have 
 done my best." 
 
 " But again again ! Oh, Mr. Brown, do ! " 
 
 Brown drew Olympia on one side, and entreated her to 
 give the unhappy girl more time; but he knew well enough 
 that he was asking almost an impossibility that the woman 
 had no power to grant that which he implored of her. In 
 her arrogant power she had pledged that young creature, 
 body and soul, to the public. How could she draw back, 
 when the crowding rush of the audience might now be 
 heard from the place where they stood. 
 
 Still the man pleaded with her, for he loved the girl 
 better than anything on earth, and, knowing something of 
 the feelings which made the stage so repulsive to her, 
 would have died to save her from the pain of that night's 
 experience. 
 
 Olympia was impatient, nervous, angry. What did the 
 man think ? Was she to throw away the chances of a great 
 success and a brilliant fortune, because a romantic girl did 
 not know her own mind ? Was she to disgrace herself 
 before all London ? 
 
 Brown had no answer. The whole thing was unreason- 
 ablehe knew that well enough ; but his heart ached for 
 the poor girl. So he had done his best, and failed mise- 
 rably. 
 
 " Go back and cheer the foolish thing up," said Olympia.
 
 THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. 91 
 
 "You can do it. She loves you better than any one in the 
 world. Now, if you want to oblige me, give her courage, 
 soothe her. I never saw such a creature ! With the 
 genius and voice of an angel, she has no ambition ; but it 
 will come. Before the drinking song is over, she will forget 
 herself. Go, Brown, and give her courage." 
 
 Brown went back to the dressing-room, feeling like an 
 executioner. 
 
 Caroline met him eagerly; but when she saw his face, 
 her heart turned to stone. 
 
 " I see ! I see ! " she said. " I am doomed ! But, re- 
 member, I was forced into this. Of my own choice, I would 
 have died first; but she is my mother, and, in my ignorance, 
 I promised her. Tell him this, if you should ever see him. 
 I never shall. After what he said of parts like this, I 
 should perish with shame. Ha ! what's that ? " 
 
 " They are calling you," faltered Brown. 
 
 She caught a sharp breath and sprang away from him, 
 like a deer when the hounds are in full cry. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. 
 
 THE opera-house was full from floor to dome. A cheerful 
 multitude crowded the body of the house with smiling faces, 
 and filled it with gay colors, till it shone out gorgeously, 
 like a thickly-planted flower-garden. The boxes filled, 
 more slowly ; but, after half an hour of soft, silken rustle 
 and answering smiles, they, too, were crowded with distin- 
 guished men and beautiful women of the British aristocracy, 
 and the whole arena was lighted up with the splendor of
 
 92 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 their garments and the flaming brightness of their jewels. 
 Then came a movement, and a low murmur of discontent, 
 which the grandest efforts of the orchestra could not silence. 
 The hour had arrived, but the curtain was still down. 
 Was there to be a disappointment, after all ? 
 
 In the midst of this growing confusion a party entered 
 one of the most prominent boxes that drew the general 
 attention in that part of the house. A lady in crimson 
 velvet, with some gossamer lace about her arms and bosom, 
 and a cobweb of the same rich material floating from the 
 thick braids of her coal-black hair, came into the box, fol- 
 lowed by a gentleman so like her that people exclaimed at 
 once : 
 
 " It is her brother ! " 
 
 These two persons were accompanied by a bright young 
 girl, in white muslin, with a blue ribbon drawn through her 
 hair like a snood, and a string of large pearls on her neck. 
 The girl was beautiful as a Hebe, and bright as a star so 
 bright and so beautiful that a whole battery of glasses was 
 turned on the box the moment she entered it. Then a 
 murmur ran from lip to lip. 
 
 " It is Lady Hope, that person who was once a governess, 
 and the young lady must be Hope's daughter by his first 
 marriage the future Lady Carset, if the old countess ever 
 dies, which she never will, if it is only to spite that woman 
 yonder, whom she hates. Beautiful ! " 
 
 " You are speaking of Lady Hope ? Yes, very ; but. 
 strange ! Night and morning are not farther apart than 
 those two. Yet I am told they are devoted to each other." 
 
 "Not unlikely. See how the woman smiles when the 
 Hebe speaks to her ! Wonderful fascination in that face. 
 Just the person to carry away a man like Hope." 
 
 Here the conversation was broken off by an impatient 
 outburst of the audience.
 
 THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. 93 
 
 In obedience to it the curtain rolled up, and the first act 
 of "Traviata" commenced. 
 
 The tumult stopped instantly, and every face was turned 
 with expectation on the stage, ready to greet " the lost one " 
 with a generous welcome. 
 
 She came in hurriedly, with her head erect, her hand 
 clenching that cloud of lace to her bosom, and her eyes 
 bright as stars. A stag hunted to desperation would have 
 turned at bay with a look like that ; and the poor animal 
 might have recoiled as she did, when that wild burst of 
 admiration stormed over her. For the outcry of the most 
 vicious hounds that ever ran could not have been more 
 appalling to a victim than that generous welcome was to 
 her. 
 
 She did not bow or smile, but retreated slowly back, step 
 by step, until a voice from behind the scene startled her. 
 Then she bent her tall figure a little forward, her head 
 drooped to her bosom, and her hands were clenched passion- 
 ately under the laces. 
 
 Again those who were nearest heard the voice, but did 
 not understand it as that poor girl did. In her panic the 
 little acting that belonged to the scene was utterly over- 
 looked ; but this proud indifference was something new, and 
 charmed the audience, which took her wounded pride for 
 superb disdain of a pampered beauty, and accepted it as a 
 graceful innovation ; while she stood trembling from head to 
 foot, conscious only of a burning desire to break away from 
 it all and hide herself forever. She did once move swiftly 
 toward the wing, but there stood Olympia, and the first 
 glimpse of that frowning face drove her back, panting for 
 breath. 
 
 The audience, seeing her panic, encouraged her with 
 applause less stormy and more sustaining. 
 
 She felt this kindness. The multitude were less her
 
 94 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 enemy than the woman who stood in the shadows, hound- 
 ing her on. Among all that sea of faces she saw one that 
 of a young girl, leaning over the crimson cushions of a box 
 near the stage, so eager, so earnest, so bright with generous 
 sympathy, that youth answered back to youth ; a smile 
 broke over her own face, and with it came her voice, fresh, 
 pure, soaring like a bird suddenly let loose on the air. 
 
 The audience listened in breathless sympathy, which 
 encouraged her. There was no doubt now ; fear could not 
 long hold such genius in thrall ; her movements became 
 free, her features brightened. She flung the lace back from 
 her head, and gave herself up to the joyous riot of that 
 drinking song. 
 
 In the midst of this scene, when every one present, on 
 and off the stage, was lavishing homage upon her, she lifted 
 her eyes to the young girl who leaned forward, poising her- 
 self in the box, like a bird preparing for flight, and clapped 
 her little hand with the glee of a delighted child. 
 
 Once more their smiles met. Then a deathly faintness 
 came over the debutante, and without a word or motion she 
 sank upon the stage, like a statue of snow which the sun 
 had touched. 
 
 In the next box, leaning forward like that young girl 
 but oh ! with what a different expression she had seen the 
 Italian teacher, her lover. 
 
 The drinking-song was hushed in its most exultant swell 
 the revellers drew around the fainting girl and carried 
 her from the stage, helpless as an infant, white as the lace 
 that clouded her. 
 
 The audience watched them bear her away in silence; 
 then it broke into murmurs of regret and sympathy. 
 
 " The effort had been too much for her. Of course, such 
 genius was accompanied with corresponding sensitiveness,
 
 THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. 95 
 
 but she would speedily recover. It was only a little inter- 
 ruption." 
 
 They were mistaken. The debutante did not return that 
 night; but in her place came Olympia, with a little tragedy 
 in her face, and a touching speech, which excited admira- 
 tion for herself and unbounded sympathy for her protege ; 
 after which, she entered into the character of Violette, with 
 a grace of action and a power of voice that carried the 
 management through what had threatened to be a serious 
 dilemma. 
 
 The truth is, this woman, Olympia, was a remarkably 
 clever person, and knew how to manage her subjects a great 
 deal better than some monarchs of England have done. 
 But she was in a raging passion that night, and the excite- 
 ment lent her force, which she exhausted in the part, while 
 her child lay moaning on the dressing-room sofa. 
 
 In the midst of the first confusion, that young girl in the 
 box had started up, and laid her hand on Hepworth Gloss's 
 arm. 
 
 " Go back to where they have taken her. You know the 
 way. Tell my maid, Margaret, to come to me at once. 
 No, no ; take me with you. I may be of use. Poor girl ! 
 poor girl ! They have almost killed her." 
 
 " But it is impossible," said Gloss, looking toward Lady 
 Hope, who was leaning against the side of the box, with 
 her face turned away. " She would not permit it." 
 
 " She does not object. We need not be seen. No one 
 will recognize us. Come ! come ! " 
 
 She took Hepworth's arm, and almost forced him from 
 the box. 
 
 " Which way ? Come ! come ! I will go." 
 
 Hepworth had been too often behind the scenes not to 
 know how to gain admittance there on this occasion. He 
 knew how resolute that young creature was, when a gen-
 
 96 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 erous or daring idea possessed her, and, after waiting a 
 moment for Lady Hope to speak, led Lady Clara away. 
 
 Clara was bewildered and almost terrified by the black 
 darkness of the passage, which was lighted only by fitful 
 gleams from the stage ; but excitement kept up her cour- 
 age, and she entered Olympia's dressing-room with the ait 
 of a person born to the tragic purple. ; s 
 
 CHAPTER X.. 
 
 THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. 
 
 CAROLINE was lying upon a heap of rich garments piled 
 on the sofa. She was trembling still, and every few mo- 
 ments a burst of bitter sobs broke from her. Three women 
 were standing by her own maid. Eliza, upon whose sym- 
 pathetic face tears were trembling ; Margaret, her sister ; 
 and, most conspicuous of all, Olympia's French maid, who 
 bent over the poor girl, with a bottle of perfume in each 
 hand, with which she insisted on assuaging the unhappy 
 girl's anguish. 
 
 Lady Clara comprehended the scene at a glance, went up 
 to the sofa, took the French maid by the shoulders, and 
 wheeled her away so swiftly that the bottles jingled; then 
 she fell upon her knees by the sofa, and flung one arm over 
 Caroline. 
 
 " Don't mind them ; don't let them bother you. Just 
 tell me what has come over you, and I'll set it right, or 
 know the reason why." 
 
 The voice, so sweet, so round and cheering, aroused 
 Caroline.
 
 THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. 97 
 
 She rose up on her elbow, and seeing the bright, honest 
 face which had bent toward her so kindly from the box, 
 reached out her arras, and wound them over Clara's neck. 
 
 "That's right; that's sisterly. I wish you were my 
 sister ; but what's the use of wishing ? There ! kiss me 
 again, for I mean to be a mother to you I do, indeed ! 
 Now tell me, what was it that struck you down so ? It was 
 frightful; it took away my breath. Tell me all about it. 
 My maid here and yours were sisters, and I shouldn't won- 
 der if we knew each other in America. But that is so long 
 ago, it wouldn't signify, but for the maids, who love us so, 
 that it makes a sort of tie. Don't you think so?" 
 
 " Oh, if it could ! if it could ! I have no relative but one, 
 and she will not pity me !" cried Caroline, clinging to Lady 
 Clara. " She will make me go back to that hateful part ! 
 It was bad enough before, but now I should die of shame ! " 
 
 " Why ? "Why now more than at first ? " inquired Clara. 
 
 " I will tell you. I know who you are, and how jjood 
 every one thinks you. I hate the stage !" 
 
 " How strange ! I cannot understand it. 
 know how I envied you when all those people started up, 
 waving their handkerchiefs and shouting to see them so 
 sorry and disappointed when you did not come back. I 
 could hardly keep myself from leaping over the box, and 
 asking the crowd to let me try !" 
 
 Caroline looked into that animated face with wonder. 
 The tears stood still on her cheeks, a faint smile crept into 
 her eyes. Then she shook her head. 
 
 "Ah! I understand. There was a time when I thought 
 like you, but that was before before " 
 
 " Before what ? Margaret and the rest of you, just go 
 outside. The room isn't large enough for so* many. There, 
 we are alone now. Just tell me all about it. You can 
 trust me."
 
 98 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "I know it. Well, Lady Clara you see I know your 
 name " 
 
 ''Exactly. But just call me Clara nothing more. I 
 really don't care for being a lady at any rate, not much. 
 That one thing is going to give me any amount of trouble 
 yet, you'll see. Well, now, having settled the lady, tell me 
 why and when you began to hate the stage so. I think it 
 is a glorious life. Just put me where you stand, without a 
 sovereign to help myself with, and I'd give up the ladyship 
 to you in a minute." 
 
 " But that is because you own your life." 
 
 " Own my life ? Of course I do. That is just what 
 every soul must own." 
 
 " Not if if she cares for some one more than her life." 
 
 " Oh-e ! oh-e ! That is the secret ! And he don't like 
 it ? The heathen ! I wish he had seen you just now !" 
 
 " He did. He was standing in the box close by you. I 
 sajyhis face, for the first time in months. He was leaning 
 !'d ; his eyes met mine. They were full of reproach 
 contonpt, perhaps. I could not tell, for the house swam 
 rouna, the lights seemed leaping toward me. Then I felt 
 as if the noise were putting them out, for everything grew 
 dark." 
 
 "And you fainted dead away, poor dear ! I know how to 
 pity you. Not that I have had trouble yet ; but it is sure 
 to come, and then, of course, you will be sorry for me." 
 
 " I shall, indeed." 
 
 "Just as I am sorry for you now. But who is the 
 man ? " 
 
 "I hardly think I know. He gave me\n Italian name, 
 but I feel sure it was not his." 
 
 " That accounts for his antipathy to the stage. If he had 
 really been an Italian, your singing would have entranced
 
 THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. 99 
 
 him. It was heavenly ; but an Englishman . Well, 
 well, we must see!" 
 
 That moment the door swung open, and Olympia came 
 in, radiant with jewels and fierce with anger. She saw 
 Lady Clara, and stopped upon the threshold in haughty 
 astonishment. Caroline shrank from the stormy expression 
 of her face, but faltered out : 
 
 " Madame, it is Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope." 
 
 Instantly the frown lost itself in a bland smile. Olympia 
 was equal to her part at all times. She did not often see 
 a lady of rank in her dressi rig-room, and the honor drove 
 away the indignant wrath intended for Caroline. 
 
 "Ah ! " she said, " this poor child it was so unfortu- 
 nate ! " But she will recover. In a day or two she will get 
 back her courage. What a voice she has, nay lady! Did 
 you hear ? So fresh, so powerful, up to the very time when 
 she broke down. What could have occasioned it ?" 
 
 "It is indeed a misfortune," said Clara, with some 
 dignity ; " because I am sure she will never do for the stage. 
 Her voice is superb, but so uncertain ! When we cowparo 
 it with yours, madame, it is to regret that she ever veit- 
 tured so far." 
 
 Olympia seated herself. She had a few moments to spare 
 before the call-boy would summon her back to the stage. 
 
 " There you mistake, my lady. When I was her age no 
 one ever dreamed that I would succeed as a singer ; but you 
 see what resolution and study can do." 
 
 " But you had study ; your guardians gave plenty of 
 time. Let her have that time ; let her friends have an 
 opportunity to think what is best for her." 
 
 " Her friends ? I did not know that she had any in 
 England." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I am one ; Lady Hope is another. Then 
 there is Mr. Gloss." 
 6
 
 100 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Olympia. " It is to that gentleman we owe 
 the honor of this visit ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Clara. " He escorted me here. Being 
 Lady Hope's brother, it was proper, you understand." 
 
 Olympia was looking in Clara's face. The girl pleased 
 her. The bright mobility of her features, the graceful 
 gestures with which she emphasized her expressions, 
 charmed the experienced actress. 
 
 "Ah, if my daughter had your abandon ! " she exclaimed, 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Or if I had her sweet dignity. But fortune is some- 
 times very perverse. Now I should glory in the applause 
 which makes her faint away." 
 
 "Ah ! she is sensitive as a child, proud as a duchess ; but, 
 where we have plenty of genius, these things only serve to 
 brighten it. I shall take Caroline into my own training. 
 When you come to hear her sing again, it will be a different 
 affair." 
 
 "Oh, madam, do not ask it ! " cried Caroline, in a panic. 
 " I never, never can go on to that stage again ! " 
 
 "We shall see," answered Olympia, blandly. "Here 
 comes the call-boy ; I must say adieu, with many thanks 
 for this visit." 
 
 "But I have a request to make. You will give her 
 time?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, my lady. She shall have sufficient time." 
 
 Olympia went out smiling ; but Caroline understood the 
 craft that lay under her soft words. 
 
 " You see that I have accomplished something," said 
 Clara, delighted with her success; "we have gained time." 
 
 " No, no ! She will have her way." 
 
 " What ! that soft, handsome creature ? " 
 
 " Has a will of iron 1 " 
 
 "And so have I ! " exclaimed the young girl, " and my
 
 CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEP-MOTHER. 101 
 
 will is that she shall not force you into a life you do not 
 like ; but I wonder at it. Upon ray word, if it were not for 
 one thing, I should like to change places with you." 
 
 Caroline shook her head. 
 
 " You have no idea what the life is !" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I have ; and it must be charming. No dignity 
 to keep up, no retinue of servants to pass every time you 
 come and go ; but all sorts of homage, plenty of work, while 
 everything you have brings in a swift recompense. Talent, 
 beauty, grace discounted every night. Oh ! it must be 
 charming." 
 
 " I thought so once," answered Caroline, with a heavy 
 sigh. 
 
 " Well, never trouble yourself to think about it again. If 
 that lovely woman has an iron will, you must get up one of 
 steel ; but here comes Margaret. I suppose Mr. Gloss is 
 getting tired of staying out there in the dark. Besides, 
 Lady Hope will be frightened. Adieu, my friend; I will 
 manage to see you again." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER. 
 
 LADY HOPE had fainted, but with such deathly stillness 
 that neither Hepvvorth Closs nor Clara had been aware of 
 it. She remained, after they left the box, drooping side- 
 ways from her cushioned seat, with the cold pallor of her 
 face hid in the crimson shadows, and kept from falling by 
 the sides of the box, against which she leaned heavily. 
 
 No one observed this, for the whole audience was in- 
 tensely occupied by what was passing on the stage ; and the
 
 102 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 pang of self-consciousness returned to Kachael Gloss in the 
 utter solitude of a great crowd. She opened her eyes 
 wearily, as if the effort were a pain. Then a wild light 
 broke through their darkness. She cast a quick glance 
 upon the stage and over the crowd. Then turning to look 
 for her companions, she found that they were gone. A 
 sense of relief came to the woman from a certainty that she 
 was alone. She leaned back against the side of the box in 
 utter depression. Her lips moved, her hands were tightly 
 clasped she seemed in absolute terror. 
 
 What had Kachael Gloss heard or seen to agitate her 
 thus ? That no one could tell. The cause of those faint 
 shudders that shook her from time to time was known only 
 to herself and her God. 
 
 When Hepworth and Lady Clara came back, Lady Hope 
 rose, and gathering her ermine cloak close to her throat, 
 said that she was tired of the confusion, and would go home, 
 unless they very much wished to stay and see Olympia. 
 
 They consented te go at once. The pallor of that beauti- 
 ful face, as it turned so imploringly upon them, was appeal 
 enough. 
 
 On their way home Lady Clara told her stepmother of 
 her visit behind the scenes. 
 
 Kachael listened, and neither rebuked her for going nor 
 asked questions ; but when Clara broke forth, in her impetu- 
 ous way, exclaiming, " Oh, mamma Kachael, you will help 
 us ! You will get this poor girl out of her mother's power ! 
 You will let me ask her down to Oakhurst ! " Kachael 
 almost sprang to her feet in the force of her sudden passion. 
 
 " What ! I I, Lady Hope of Oakhust, invite that girl 
 to be your companion, my guest ! Clara, are you mad ? or 
 ami?" 
 
 The girl was struck dumb with amazement. Never in 
 her existence had she been so addressed before for, wilh
 
 CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEP-MOTHER. 103 
 
 her, Rachael had been always kind and delicately tender. 
 Why had she broken forth now, when she asked the first 
 serious favor of her life ? 
 
 "Mamma! mamma Rachael!" she cried. "What is 
 the matter ? What have I done that you are so cross with 
 me?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Rachael, sighing heavily, "only you 
 ask an unreasonable thing, and one your father would never 
 forgive me for granting." 
 
 " But she is so lovely ! papa would like her, I know. She 
 is so unhappy, too ! I could feel her shudder when the 
 stage was mentioned. Oh, mamma Rachael, we might save 
 her from that ! " 
 
 " I cannot ! Do not ask me ; I cannot ! " 
 
 " But I promised that you would be her friend." 
 
 " Make no promises for me, Clara, for I will redeem none. 
 Drive this girl from your thoughts. To-morrow morning 
 we go back to Oakhurst." 
 
 " To-morrow morning ! And I promised to see her 
 again." 
 
 " It is impossible. Let this subject drop. In my wish 
 to give 3^ou pleasure, I have risked the anger of Lord Hope. 
 He would never forgive me if I permitted this entangle- 
 ment." 
 
 Lady Clara turned to Hepworth Closs. 
 
 "Plead for me plead for that poor girl!" she cried, 
 with the unreasoning persistence of a child ; but, to her 
 astonishment, Hepworth answered even more resolutely 
 than his sister. 
 
 " I cannot, Clara. There should be nothing in common 
 between the daughter of Olympia and Lord Hope's only 
 child." 
 
 " Oh, how cruel ! What is the use of having rank and 
 power if one is not to use it for the good of others ? "
 
 104 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " We will not argue the matter, dear child." 
 
 " But I will argue it, and if I cannot convince, I will 
 hate you, Hepworth Gloss, just as long as I live." 
 
 " Not quite so bad as that, I trust," answered Hepworth, 
 sadly. " To own the truth, Clara, I fear your mother will 
 have enough to do in reconciling Lord Hope to the position 
 another person has assumed in his household. Do not let 
 us add new difficulties to her position." 
 
 Clara began to cry. 
 
 " I'm sure I never thought of troubling her or offending 
 my father. It is so natural for them to be good and kind, 
 why should I doubt them now, when the grandest, sweetest, 
 most beautiful girl in the whole world wants help just the 
 help they can give, too? Well, well, when papa comes 
 home, I will lay the whole case before him." 
 
 " Not for the world ! " cried Rachael, suddenly. " I tell 
 you, cast this subject from your mind. I will not have my 
 lord annoyed by it. For once, Clara, I must and will be 
 obeyed." 
 
 Clara sank back in her seat, aghast with surprise. 
 
 " Oh, mamma Rachael, you are getting to be awfully 
 cruel." 
 
 " Cruel ? No ! In this I am acting kindly. It is you 
 who are cruel in pressing a distasteful and impossible thing 
 upon me." 
 
 " I don't understand it ; I can't believe it. You are 
 always so free, so generous, to those who need help. It is 
 just because this poor girl is my friend. Oh ! I only wish 
 old Lady Carset would just die, and leave me everything ! 
 I would let the world see a specimen of independence I 
 would ! Don't speak to me, don't attempt to touch my 
 hand, Mr. Gloss ! You haven't a spark of human nature in 
 you. I have a good mind to leave you all, and go on the 
 stage myself."
 
 CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEP-MOTHER. 105 
 
 Again Lady Hope broke into a storm of impatience so 
 unlike her usual self-restraint, that Clara was really terri- 
 fied. 
 
 "Hush, girl! Not another word of this. I will not 
 endure it." 
 
 This severe reprimand took away Clara's breath for an 
 instant; then she burst into a passion of sobs and tears, 
 huddling herself up into a corner of the carriage, and utterly 
 refused all consolation from Hepworth, who was generously 
 disturbed by her grief. 
 
 Lady Hope did nothing, but sat in silence, lost in 
 thought, or perhaps striving to subdue the tumult of feel- 
 ings that had so suddenly broke forth from her usual firm 
 control. 
 
 Thus they drove home in distrust and excitement. A 
 few low murmurs from Hepworth, bursts of grief from Lady 
 Clara, and dead silence on the part of Rachael Closs, 
 attended the first disagreement that had ever set the step- 
 mother and daughter in opposition. 
 
 When they reached home, Clara, her face all bathed in 
 tears, and her bosom heaving with sobs, ran up to her room, 
 without the usual kiss or " Good-night." 
 
 She was bitterly offended, and expressed the feeling in 
 her own childish fashion. 
 
 Rachael sat down in the hall, and watched the girl as she 
 glided up the broad staircase, perhaps hoping that she 
 would look back, or, it may be, regretting the course she 
 had taken, for her face was unutterably sad, and her atti- 
 tude one of great despondency. 
 
 At last, when Clara was out of sight, she turned a wistful 
 look on her brother. 
 
 " She will hate me now." 
 
 Her voice was more plaintive than the words. The con- 
 fidence of that young girl was all the world to herj for,
 
 106 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 independent of everything else, it was the one human link 
 that bound her to the man she loved with such passionate 
 idolatry. Her kindness to his child was the silver cord 
 which even his strong will could not sunder, even if he 
 should wish it. 
 
 Hepworth saw her anguish, and pitied it. 
 " Let her go," he said, stooping down and kissing his 
 sister on the forehead, which, with her neck and arms, was 
 cold as marble. "She is disappointed, vexed, and really 
 indignant with us both ; but a good night's sleep will set 
 her heart right again. I wish we had never chanced to 
 come here." 
 
 " Oh, Heavens ! so do I." 
 
 "Bachael," said Hepworth, "what is it troubles you so? " 
 
 "What? Is it not enough that the child I have made a 
 part of my own life should quarrel with me and with you, 
 because of me, for a stranger ? " 
 
 " No ; because her own generous nature assures us that 
 the evil will die of itself before morning. This is not 
 enough to account for the fact that you quiver as if with 
 cold, and the very touch of your forehead chills me." 
 
 " Do I ? " questioned Rachael. " I did not know it. 
 My cloak has fallen off that is all." 
 
 " Mamma Eachael ! " 
 
 They both started, for leaning over the banisters was the 
 sweet, tearful face of Lady Clara. 
 
 " My own darling ! " cried Rachael, lifting her arms. 
 
 Down che staircase sprang that generous young creature, 
 her feet scarcely touching the polished oak, her hair all un- 
 bound and rolling in waves down her back. Struck with 
 sweet compunctions, she had broken from the hands of her 
 maid, and left her with the blue ribbon fluttering in her 
 hand, while she ran back to make peace with the woman 
 who was almost dearer to her than a mother.
 
 THE OLD PRISONER. 107 
 
 She fell upon her knees by Eachael, and shook the hair 
 from her face, which was glowing with sweet penitence. 
 
 " Kiss me, mamma Eachael, not on this saucy mouth of 
 mine, hut here upon my forehead. I cannot sleep till you 
 have kissed me good night." 
 
 Kachael laid one hand on that bright young head, but it 
 was quivering like a shot bird. She bent the face back a 
 little, and pored over the features with yearning scrutiny, 
 as if she longed to engrave every line on her heart. 
 
 Something in those black eyes disturbed the girl afresh. 
 She reached up her arms, and cried out : 
 
 " Don't be angry with me, mamma Rachael, but kiss me 
 good night, and ask God to make me a better girl." 
 
 Instead of kissing her, Eachael Gloss fell upon her neck 
 and broke into a passion of tears such as Clara had never 
 seen her shed before. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE OLD PRISONER. 
 
 IN America again. Yes, fate has swept most of the 
 characters of our story across the ocean ; but one remains 
 behind to whom the kind heart must turn with more solemn 
 interest than the young, the beautiful, or the lordly can 
 inspire. 
 
 No changes had fallen upon that bleak, gloomy prison, 
 whose very shadow, as it lay across the dusty road, 
 streamed out like a pall. Human crime brings human 
 misery, and that, crowded together and stifled under the 
 heel of the law, is a terrible, most terrible thing. 
 
 In the midst of this" desolation, that old woman had lived
 
 108 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 and suffered fourteen years, without a complaint, without 
 once asking for the freedom, which would have been so 
 sweet to her, even of her God. She had sinned deeply 
 how far, she and the Almighty, who knows all things, alone 
 could tell ; but she had borne her punishment with much 
 humility ; in her quiet way, had made her presence in that 
 dreary place a blessing to those more wretched than herself. 
 
 During that long, weary time many a poor prisoner had 
 felt the comfort of her presence near her sick couch and her 
 grave. Kind looks had cheered other desponding souls 
 when words of compassion were forbidden to her lips. 
 
 One day this woman sat at her task sewing on some 
 heavy prison garments. A skein of coarse thread hung 
 about her neck, and a steel thimble was upon her long, 
 slender finger, where it had worn a ring about the nail with 
 incessant use. 
 
 She did not look up when -the matron entered the room, 
 but worked on, with steady purpose, not caring to see that 
 strange gentleman who came in with the matron, and stood 
 looking kindly upon her. 
 
 " Mrs. Yates." 
 
 The old woman lifted her head with a suddenness that 
 almost shook the iron spectacles from her face. Her eyes 
 encountered those of the gentleman, and she stood up 
 meekly, like a school-girl aroused from her task, and 
 remained, with her eyes bent on the floor, waiting for the 
 man to pass on. He did not move, however, but stood 
 gazing upon her snow-white hair, her thin dd face, and the 
 gentle stoop that had, at last, bent her shoulders a little, 
 with infinite compassion in his face. 
 
 " Mrs. Yates, why do you stand so motionless ? How is 
 it that your eyes turn sosteadily to the floor?" 
 
 The old woman lifted her eyes slowly to that calm, thin 
 face. She did not know it, had never seen it before in her
 
 THE OLD PRISONED. 109 
 
 life ; but it was so seldom any one spoke to her, that a soft 
 glow of comfort stole to her heart as she looked, and two 
 great tears rolled from under her spectacles. Then she re- 
 membered that he had asked something. 
 
 " In prison, here, we get a down look," she said, with 
 pathetic simplicity. 
 
 " But you will look in my face now." 
 
 She did gaze at him earnestly ; but shook her head and 
 dropped her eyes, for the force of habit was still upon her. 
 
 " I do not know you," she murmured. 
 
 " Did you then expect some friend ? " asked the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " I have no friends," was the sad reply. 
 
 " Does no one come to see you ? " 
 
 " Years ago my son used to come and his wife, too ; but 
 they are both dead." 
 
 " Poor woman ! " * 
 
 She looked up again with a glance of earnest surprise. 
 She was so unused to pity that the compassionate voice 
 brought a dry sob to her throat. 
 
 "Are you content here ? Tell me." 
 
 " Yes, I am content." 
 
 Her voice was low, but inexpressibly mournful. 
 
 " I know the crime for which you were committed," said 
 the gentleman, " and have read the case over. Tell me, 
 were you guilty ? " 
 
 The old woman lifted her eyes slowly, and replied : 
 
 " Yes, I was a guilty woman." 
 
 " But were you, before God, guilty of murder ? " 
 
 She met his eyes steadily. He saw a quiver of pain sweep 
 over her features, and the thin lips began to stir. 
 
 " He is dead, my innocent, my hdbest son. Nothing can 
 harm him now. I have not suffered in vain. Before God I 
 was not guilty- of murder, but terribly guilty in taking this
 
 110 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 crime on myself: but it was to save him, and I cannot 
 repent, I cannot repent, and in that lies double guilt !" 
 
 The stranger searched her features keenly as she spoke. 
 Perhaps he was prepared for this answer; but the light that 
 came over his face was full of compassion. 
 
 " Have you done with me ? " questioned the old woman, 
 in the meek, sad voice that had become habitual to her. 
 " Perhaps you will not believe me ; but God knows ! " 
 
 The man turned from her and stepped into the matron's 
 room. 
 
 The old woman sat down upon the bench from which she 
 had arisen, took the coarse needle from the bosom of her 
 dress, where she had fastened it when spoken to, and thread- 
 ed it again ; but her hand shook a little, and the thread 
 baffled her confused vison. Then the strange gentleman 
 came back again, smiling, and with moisture in his eyes. 
 
 " My good woman," he said, " put up your work. You 
 did not know it, but I am the Governor of New York, and 
 your pardon has just gone to the warden." 
 
 The needle dropped from one quivering old hand a 
 thread fell from its companion. 
 
 " Pardon for me ! " 
 
 Her lips were white, and the words trembled from them 
 one by'Sone. She did not comprehend that this man had 
 given her back to the world. 
 
 " It is true," said the matron, weeping the glad, sweet 
 tears of a benevolent heart, " His Excellency has pardoned 
 you. This very hour you are free to leave the prison." 
 
 " God help me ! Oh ! God help me ! " cried the poor old 
 woman, looking around at her rude work and seating herself 
 among it. " Where can I go ? " 
 
 The Governor took some money from his pocket and laid 
 it in her lap. Then he went hastily from the room.
 
 THE OLD PRISONER. Ill 
 
 The matron sat down upon the bench, and clasped the 
 withered hand in hers. 
 
 " Have you no friend ? " 
 
 "None." 
 
 " No duties left undone? " 
 
 The old woman drew herself up. Duties last longer than 
 friends. Yes, she had duties, and God had taken the shack- 
 les from her limbs that she might perform them. Freedom 
 was before her and an object. She arose gently and looked 
 around a little wildly. 
 
 " I will go now." 
 
 The matron went out and returned with a bundle of 
 clothes and a black bonnet upon which was some rusty 
 crape ; a huge, old-fashioned thing that framed in her silver- 
 white hair like a pent-house. The very shape and fashion 
 of this bonnet was pathetic it spoke of so long ago. The 
 black dress and soft shawl with which she had come to the 
 prison were a little moth-eaten, but not much, for they had 
 been carefully hoarded ; but the poor old woman looked with 
 a sigh on her prison-dress as it fell to the floor, and wept bit- 
 terly before she went out, as if that gloomy mass of stones 
 had been a pleasant home to her. 
 
 Slowly, and with a downcast look, the old woman went 
 out of the prison, up through the rugged quarries,*where a 
 gang of men were at work, dragging their weary limbs from 
 stone to stone, with the listless, haggard effort of forced 
 labor. Some of these men looked up, as she passed them, 
 and watched her with bitter envy. 
 
 "There goes a pardon," they said to each other; "and 
 that old woman with one foot in the grave, while we are 
 young and strong! Freedom would be everything to us; 
 but what good will it do to her?" 
 
 So the poor old prisoner passed on, sadly bewildered and
 
 112 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 afraid, like a homeless child, but thanking God for a mercy 
 she could not yet realize. 
 
 There was one place to which she must go. It might be 
 empty and desolate, but there her son had died, and she 
 had seen the roof of his dwelling from the graveyard when 
 they let her come out from prison to see him buried. 
 
 She knew the road, for her path led to the grave first, and 
 after that she could find the way, for every step, so far, had 
 been marked by a pang, to which her heart was answering 
 back now. 
 
 At sunset, that day, some workmen, passing the village 
 burying-place, saw an old woman sitting by a grave that 
 had been almost forgotten in the neighborhood. 
 
 She was looking dreary and forlorn in the damp enclosure, 
 for clouds were drifting low in the sky, and a cold rain was 
 beginning to fall ; but they did not know that this poor wo- 
 man had a home-feeling by that grave, even with the rain 
 falling, which Belonged to no other place on earth. 
 
 A little later, when the gray darkness was creeping on, 
 this same tall figure might have been discovered moving 
 through the rough cedar pillars of the Ylftes cottage. There 
 was no light in the house, for no human soul lived beneath 
 its roof; but a door was so lightly fastened that she got it 
 open with some effort, and entered what seemed to her like 
 the kitchen; for the last tenant had left some kindling-wood 
 in the fireplace, and two or three worn-out cooking utensils 
 stood near the hearth, where they were beginning to rust. 
 
 When she left the prison, the matron had, with many 
 kind words, thrust a parcel into the old woman's hand. 
 Knowing her helplessness, she had provided food for a meal 
 or two, and to this had added some matches and candles. 
 
 In the gray light which came through one of the windows, 
 she untied this parcel and found the candles. It seemed to 
 the forlorn creature as if a merciful God had sent them
 
 THE OLD PRISONER. 113 
 
 directly to her, and she fell upon her knees, thanking Him. 
 The light which she struck gave lier the first gleam of hope 
 that her freedom had yet brought. She was at liberty to 
 build a fire on that dark hearth, and to sit there just as long 
 as she pleased, enjo3'ing its warmth. The rain that began 
 to rattle down on the low roof made her shelter more pleas- 
 ant. She began to realize that even in such desolation 
 liberty was sweet. 
 
 She built a fire with the dry wood, and its blaze soon filled 
 the kitchen with a golden glow. Her garments were wet, 
 and a soft steam arose from them as she sat, enveloping her 
 in a gray cloud. The loneliness might have been terrible to 
 another person, but she had been so long accustomed to the 
 darkness and gloom of a prison cell, that this illuminated 
 space seemed broad as the universe to her. 
 
 After her clothes were dry, the old woman lighted her 
 candle and began to examine the house. The parlor was 
 almost empty, and a gust of wind took her candle as she 
 opened the door, flaring back the flame into her face. The 
 wind came from a broken pane of glass in the oriel window, 
 through which a branch of ivy, and the long tendril of a 
 Virginia creeper had penetrated, and woven themselves in a 
 garland along the wall. A wren had followed the creeping 
 greenness and built her nest in the cornice, from which she 
 flew frightened, when a light entered the room. 
 
 The old woman went out disappointed. The thing she 
 sought was not there ; perhaps it had been utterly des- 
 troyed. The man who had promised to keep it sacred, lay 
 sleeping up yonder in the graveyard. How could she 
 expect strangers to take up his trust? But if the object 
 she sought could not be found, what was the use of liberty 
 to her. The one aim of her life would be extinguished. 
 She took up the cand]e and mounted a^flight of narrow 
 stairs which led to the chambers.
 
 114 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 They were all empty except one small room, where she 
 found an iron bedstead, on which some old quilts and refuse 
 blankets were heaped. Behind this bed, pressed into a cor- 
 ner, was an old chair, covered with dust. 
 
 When she saw this, the light shook in her hand. She 
 sat down upon the bedstead, and reaching the candle out, 
 examined the old chair, through its veil of cobwebs. It 
 was the same. How well she remembered that night when 
 her own hands had put on that green cover. 
 
 The chair was broken. One of its castors dropped to the 
 floor as Mrs. Yates drew it from the corner, and the carved 
 wood-work came off in her hand ; the cushion was stained 
 and torn in places, but this dilapidation she knew had not 
 reached her secret. 
 
 She took the chair in her arms and carried it down to 
 the kitchen. Some of the brass nails dropped loose on the 
 stairs, but she took no heed of them. All she wanted was 
 some instrument with which she could turn the ricketty 
 thing into a complete wreck. In the drawer of a broken 
 kitchen table she found an old knife, with the blade half 
 ground away. This she whetted to an edge on the hearth, 
 and directly the little brass nails flew right and left, a mass 
 of twisted fringe lay on the hearth, when the old womaa 
 stood in a cloud of dust, holding the torn rep in her hand. 
 It dropped in a heap with the fringe, then the inner lining 
 was torn away, handsful of hair were pulled out from among 
 the springs, and that casket with a package of papers rustled 
 and shook in the old woman's hands. 
 
 Mrs. Yates trembled from head to foot. It was many 
 long years since she had touched heavy work like that, and 
 it shocked her whole frame. 
 
 The dull monotony of sewing upon prison garments had 
 undermined all her great natural strength. She sat there
 
 THE OLD PRISONER. 115 
 
 panting for breath, and white to the lips. The excitement 
 had been too much for this poor prison woman. 
 
 She sat like a dazed creature, looking down into the cas- 
 ket which lay open in her lap, with ten thousand rainbow 
 fires leaping out of it, as the blaze in the chimney quivered 
 and danced and blazed over the diamonds. That morning 
 the old woman had crept out of prison in her moth-eaten 
 garments, and a little charity money in her bosom. Now a 
 fortune blazed up from her lap. 
 
 There was money, too, a purse heavy with sovereigns, 
 dropped there from the gold contained in that malachite 
 box, from which all her awful sorrows had sprung. She 
 gathered up these things in the skirt of her dress and sat 
 brooding over them a long time, while the fire rose and 
 crackled, and shed warm floods of light all around her, and 
 the rain poured down in torrents. She was completely 
 worn out at last, and thought itself became a burden ; then 
 her head fell back upon the ruined cushions of the chair, 
 which held her in a half-sitting position, as the heaviest 
 sleep that ever came to mortal eyes fell upon her. 
 
 Still the rain poured down continually upon the roof and 
 overran the gutters in torrents. Up from the darkness of 
 a hollow near by, the rush and roar of a. stream, swollen 
 into a torrent, came through the beating storm like a heavy 
 bass voice pouring its low thunders through a strain of 
 music. The great elm tree at the end of the house tossed 
 its streaming branches, and beat them upon the roof, till a 
 host of warriors seemed breaking their way through, while 
 the old vines were seized by the wind and ripped from the 
 sides of the house, as the storm seizes upon the cords of a 
 vessel, and tears them up into a net work of tangled floss. 
 
 The old woman who had left her stone cell in the prison 
 for the first time in fourteen years, heard nothing of this, 
 but lay half upon the' floor half on the broken chair, with 
 7
 
 116 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 the broad blaze of the fire flashing over her white hair, and 
 kindling up the diamonds in her lap to a bed of living 
 coals. She was perfectly safe with those treasures, even in 
 that lonely house, for in the pouring rain no human being 
 was likely to go about from bis own free will. But one 
 poor fellow, whose child was desperately sick, did pass the 
 house, and saw the blaze of a fire breaking through a win- 
 dow, where the shutters were flashing to and fro on their 
 hinges, and found breath to say, as he sped on in search of 
 a doctor : 
 
 " So the cedar cottage has got another tenant at last. I 
 wonder who it is ? " 
 
 When the man went by to his work, the next morning, 
 he saw the shutters swaying to and fro yet, and wondering 
 at it, went into the enclosure, in hopes of meeting some of 
 the new inmates ; but everything was still, the doors were 
 fastened, and through the kitchen window he saw nothing 
 but a heap of ashes on the hearth, and an old chair, torn to 
 pieces, standing before it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 WHEN the old countess of Carset threw out her flag from 
 the battlements of Houghton castle, it could be seen from 
 all the country around, for the grim old pile was built upon 
 the uplands, and the gray towers rose up from the groves 
 of the park like the peaks of a mountain. 
 
 For many a long year that broad flag had streamed like 
 a meteor over "the intense greenness of oaks and chestnuts ; 
 for, when the head of the house was at home, the crimson
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS. 117 
 
 pennant was always to be seen floating against the sky, 
 and over that sea of billowy foliage. The old lady of 
 Houghton had not been absent from the castle in many 
 years, for she was a childless woman, and so aged, that a 
 hotne among her own people was most befitting her in- 
 firmities and her pride. 
 
 One day, as the sun was going down behind those mas- 
 sive castle towers, filling the sky so richly with gold and 
 crimson, that the red flag was lost among its fiery billows, 
 an old woman stood on the highway, with a hand uplifted 
 to shade her eyes, as she searched for the old flag. 
 
 There was dust upon her leathern shoes and on the black 
 folds of her alpaca dress, for she had walked from the rail- 
 way station, and the roads were dry. 
 
 "Ah, how the trees have grown ! " she said, mournfully, 
 dropping her hand. " I never, never thought to be so near 
 Houghton and not see the flag. Is my lady dead?" 
 
 The old woman was so distressed by the thought, that 
 she sat down on a bank by the wayside, and over her came 
 that dry, hard foreboding, which forbids tears to old eyes, 
 but holds the worn heart like a vise. Thus, with her 
 eyes fixed on the dusty road, she sat till all those bright 
 clouds melted into the coming night ; then she looked up 
 and saw the great red flag streaming out against a sea of 
 purplish gray, as it had done when she was a girl, seventy 
 years ago. 
 
 " My lady is alive. She is there. Oh ! my God ! make 
 me thankful ! " she exclaimed, standing up in the road. 
 " Through all, I shall see her again. " 
 
 So she moved on, canning a leathern travelling bag, worn 
 and rusty, in her feeble hand. Along the highway, up to 
 the gates of that noble park, she travelled with the slow, toil- 
 some step of old age ; but when she came to the gates they 
 were closed, and her voice was so feeble that it failed to
 
 118 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 reach the lodge, from which she could see lights gleaming 
 through the twinkling ivy leaves. 
 
 In patient disappointment the old woman turned from 
 the gate, and walked on half a mile farther, for she knew 
 of a small public house where a night 's lodging could be 
 obtained. She reached this low stone building after dark, 
 and entered it quietly, like a gray ghost. 
 
 It was a strange guest to enter that tap-room, with her 
 dusty garments and her old satchel. The villagers, who 
 were taking their beer comfortably, lifted their eyes in 
 astonishment at her sudden appearance, and they rounded 
 with wonder, as she passed through the room and entered 
 the kitchen naturally, as if she had belonged to the prem- 
 ises all her life. 
 
 No one in the house remembered the old woman. A curly- 
 headed girl named Susan, had flitted like a bird about that 
 kitchen the last time she had entered it, and now, when a 
 man's voice called out '* Susan ! " she started and looked 
 around in a dazed way, expecting the bright eyed girl would 
 come dancing through the door. But instead appeared an, 
 elderly woman, with quantities of coarse black hair, smoothed 
 under her cap. A linen apron, large and ample, protected 
 her stuff dress, and a steel chatelaine, to which were sus- 
 pended scissors, a needle case and tiny money box rattled 
 at her side. 
 
 "Well, what is to do now, Stephen?" said the landlady, 
 brushing some crumbs from her apron, for she had been cut- 
 ting bread. 
 
 " Not much, only look sharp. Here is an old body just 
 come off the tramp. Ah, there she sits. See to her while 
 I mind the bar, for she seems a little above the common, 
 and is quiet." 
 
 The landlord sank his voice as he made the communica-
 
 THE OLD CO'UNTESS. 119 
 
 tion, and, after a glance at the old woman, went back to his 
 guests, while the matron addressed Mrs. Yates. 
 
 " Ye will be wanting something, no doubt. Will it be 
 tea or a cup of ale posset ? " 
 
 The old heart in that bosom stirred with a tender recol- 
 lection of long ago, as this almost forgotten dish was men- 
 tioned, a dish so purely English, that she had never once 
 heard it mentioned in her American life. 
 
 " I will thank you for a posset," she said, taking off her 
 bonnet and smoothing her milk-white hair with both hands. 
 " It is long since I have tasted one." 
 
 "Yes," answered the landlady, "there is more refresh- 
 ment in a cup of warm posset, than in quarts of tea from 
 China. Wait a bit and you shall have one of my own 
 making ; the maids never will learn how to curdle the milk 
 properly, but I am a rare hand at it, as was my mother 
 before me." 
 
 " Aye, a good housewife was your mother," said the old 
 woman, as tender recollections stirred in her bosom, "for 
 now I see that it is little Susan." 
 
 " Little Susan, and you know of her ? That was what 
 they used to call me when I was a lass, so high." 
 
 " But now, what is the name you go by ? " 
 
 " What name should a woman go by but that of her own 
 husband ? You have just seen the master. The neighbors 
 call him Stephen Burke." 
 
 "What, the son of James Burke, gamekeeper at the 
 castle ? " 
 
 " Why, did you know him, too ? " 
 
 " Aye, that did I. A brave young fellow he was, and 
 every one at the castle up yonder " 
 
 The old woman checked herself. She had not intended 
 to make herself known, but old recollections had thronged
 
 120 THE (XLD COUNTESS. 
 
 upon her so warmly, that it seemed impossible to keep 
 silent. 
 
 " You speak of the castle as if you knew about it," said 
 the landlady, eyeing her askance. 
 
 "And no wonder," answered the old woman; "people 
 have told me about it, and I was in the neighborhood years 
 ago, when you were a slip of a lass." 
 
 It was strange, but this old woman, since her entrance to 
 that room, had fallen back upon phrases and words familiar 
 to her lips once, but which had not made any part of her 
 speech for years. There was a home sound in them that 
 warmed her heart. 
 
 " Did ye ever know any of them up yonder ? " asked the 
 landlady, as she placed a broad porringer before the fire, and 
 poured some milk into it. 
 
 " Yes. I have seen the countess, but it was long ago." 
 
 " May-be it was when the young lady was at home. Oh ! 
 them were blithe times, when young Lord Hope came a 
 courting, and we could see them driving like turtle doves 
 through the park and down the village ; or, walking along 
 by the hedges and gathering hyacinths and violets. It was 
 a sorry time, though, when he took her away for good and 
 all." 
 
 " Is the young lady living near this ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Yates, with an effort. 
 
 " Near this, my good woman ! Why, she has been dead 
 these many years, and Lord Hope had been married to his 
 second wife ten years, when my first lass was born ; but he 
 lives at Oakhurst, and never comes here now. No one, in 
 these parts, has seen his second lady, for the countess was 
 sadly put out with the marriage, and all her household was 
 forbidden to mention Lord Hope's name before her. She 
 never got over the death of our own young lady in foreign 
 parts, off in America among the red Indians, who tomahawk
 
 THE OLD PRISONER. 121 
 
 people, and no one asks why. This was where Lord Hope 
 took his wife and child. Can any one wonder that our coun- 
 tess could not forgive him, especially when he came back 
 home with a new wife,and stood out that his daughter should 
 never come to Houghton, till our old lady up yonder was 
 ready to be gracious to the new woman." 
 
 " So the child was never at the castle ? " inquired the old 
 woman. 
 
 "No one hereabouts has ever seen her, though we are 
 told that she is a beautiful young lady, sweet and pleasant, 
 but with a will of her own. The old countess sent for 
 her once, for she must be heiress of Houghton, you know ; 
 but she sent back word that nothing could entice her into a 
 house where her stepmother was forbidden to come, and this 
 so offended our countess, that she has taken no notice of 
 her since." 
 
 While she was talking, the landlady poured a measure of 
 frothing ale into the porringer, and became all at once silent. 
 The delicate art of curding the milk into whey took up all 
 her attention. Thus the old lady was allowed to drop into 
 a fit of thought, from which she was aroused, wjth a start, 
 when the hostess poured the warm posset into a china bowl 
 and began stirring it with a heavy silver spoon, as she call- 
 ed out : 
 
 " Come to the table, grandame, and sup the poeset while it 
 is hot. You'll not get its fellow till I turn my hand to 
 another for ye. Come, come ! " 
 
 Mrs. Yates drew her chair to the table, and took up the 
 silver spoon, eagerly. Poor woman ! She had travelled all 
 day without tasting food, and the posset took her from a 
 very painful train of thought. 
 
 The hostess sat down at one end of the table, smiling 
 blandly over the keen appetite of her guest. With her 
 arms folded on the wfeite cloth, and her ruddy face bending
 
 122 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 forward, she went on with her talk. But this time she turn- 
 ed from the castle, and began to ask questions, for the pre- 
 sence of this singular old woman in her house had fully 
 aroused her curiosity. 
 
 But the traveller was on her guard now, and escaped 
 these blunt questions with quiet adroitness. When they 
 became oppressive, she arose from the table and asked per- 
 misson to seek her bed, as the day's travel had left her tired 
 beyond anything. 
 
 The hostess took a candle from the table and led the way 
 up stairs, somewhat baffled, but full of kindly feeling. 
 There was something about the manner and speech of this 
 old woman that set all her warm-hearted interest afloat. 
 Who was she ? From what part of England had she tra- 
 velled with that rusty little bag and those thick-soled shoes ? 
 That quiet manner and gentle voice might have belonged to 
 any lady of the land. 
 
 In the midst of these conjectures the quiet old woman 
 reached out her hand for the candle, and with a soft " good- 
 night," closed the chamber-door. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 
 
 THE next morning Mrs. Yates was early at the park-gate. 
 She found no trouble in passing through now, and was soon 
 in the avenue, making slow progress toward the castle, 
 under the shade of those vast oaks and .chestnuts. The 
 way was long, and the avenue swept upward with what, to 
 the old woman, was a toilsome ascent. The bag, which she
 
 THE COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 123 
 
 carried in her hand, was of some weight, too, and the cramp- 
 ed inaction of so many years had rendered walking a slow 
 and painful process. 
 
 At last she stood in full view of that grand old building 
 a castle of the olden times kept, so far as possible to ele- 
 gance or comfort, in its ponderous mediaeval grandeur. But 
 Madam Art had softened all its ruder features. Plate-glass 
 was sunk into those thick walls ; circular rooms in those 
 twin towers, commanded a splendid view of the valley, over 
 which the castle was built. The broad stone terrace connect- 
 ing the towers, and fronting the main building was connect- 
 ed with a velvet lawn by a forest of hot-house plants, that 
 clung around the stone parapet in a sumptuous garland of 
 vines and flowers, that shed a soft and delicious fragrance 
 over everything in and around the building. 
 
 Across this lawn and over the stone terrace the old woman 
 toiled toward the main entrance. She was beginning to 
 tremble now with something beside weariness. Her satchel 
 bore down the feeble hand that carried it, till it dragged 
 along the stones with a low, rasping sound, as she climbed 
 the terrace-steps. She lifted the ponderous bronze knocker, 
 aud let it fall from her shaking hand with a crash that 
 startled herself, and brought a man, all glittering in silver 
 gray and scarlet, to the door, where he stood, with his inso- 
 lent lips ajar, waiting to know what miracle had brought 
 that forlorn creature to the grand entrance of Houghton 
 Castle. 
 
 " I wish to speak with the countess." 
 
 That sweet old voice could not counteract the effect of her 
 dress and worn satchel. The parted lips of the man in 
 scarlet fell together, and drooped scornfully down at the 
 corners. 
 
 " There is a proper entrance for servants and village-peo-
 
 124 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 pie," said this high functionary, with his powdered head 
 thrown back. 
 
 " I know," answered the woman, quietly ; " but I wish to 
 see my lady, and do not care to seek her from the ser- 
 vants' hall. Go to her and say that Hannah Yates, an old 
 servant of the family, is below, waiting to see her." 
 
 The man hesitated. Then the old woman stepped softly 
 into the hall, passing him so suddenly that he drew back 
 aghast. 
 
 " If you will not go, I must find the way for myself," she 
 said, still in a voice so gentle that he could take little offence 
 at it. 
 
 Her composure rather disturbed the man, who gave his 
 powdered head a toss, and mounted the broad oaken staircase, 
 with an indignant swell of the chest. Through a long pas- 
 sage, carpeted with the thickness of forest turf, he went, 
 giving forth no sound till he opened a door in one of the 
 lower chambers, and, sweeping a curtain of crimson silk 
 back with his arm, announced the name that old woman had 
 given him at the door. 
 
 Something lying under the rich colors of a great India 
 shawl moved quickly ; the shawl dropped to the floor, and 
 a little old woman sat up on the couch where she had been 
 resting. 
 
 " Yates Hannah Yates?" Did you say Yates, 
 Henry ? " 
 
 " That was the name, my lady." 
 
 " An old woman like me ? " 
 
 " Old enough, my lady ; but Heaven forbid I should say 
 like your ladyship. I could not force myself to do it." 
 
 " Bring her here, Henry." 
 
 The door closed, and the old countess drew herself gra- 
 dually upright. 
 
 She was a pale, little woman, with hair as soft and white
 
 THE COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 125 
 
 as the delicate lace that fell like a spider's web over it. The 
 child-like hands, which lay in relief among the folds of her 
 black-satin dress, were withered in their whiteness, like the 
 leaves of a frost-bitten lily. They were quivering, too ; and 
 now that she was alone, you might have seen that delicate 
 head begin to vibrate with a slow, perpetual motion, which 
 had been stopped a moment by the surprise which had fall- 
 en upon her. She sat with her eyes on the curtain, which 
 shut the door from view. The trembling of her head 
 extended to her whole body, and her small feet pattered 
 freely on the carpet, like those of a child in the impotence of 
 sickness. 
 
 As she looked the red curtain was lifted, and into the 
 luxurious splendor of that room came a tall, old woman, who 
 was trembling like herself, and stood in her presence, ap- 
 parently afraid to look up. 
 
 The old countess arose from her couch, trampling the 
 India shawl under her feet, and moved with feeble slowness 
 toward her strange visitor. 
 
 " Hannah Yates ! " 
 
 At these words the down prison-look that had fallen upon 
 Hannah was lifted from her, and those large gray eyes were 
 bent on the little patrician with a look of intense mournful- 
 ness. 
 
 " My mistress ! " 
 
 fl Hannah Yates, I never expected to see you again on 
 this earth, and now you come before me like a ghost." 
 
 " Ah, my mistress," answered the old servant, with 
 pathetic humility. " I am a ghost of the woman who once 
 loved and served you." 
 
 " And I ? Look upon me, Yates. How have God and 
 time dealt with your mistress ? Has my head been respect- 
 ed more than yours ? " 
 
 They stood for a moment looking solemnly at each other
 
 126 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 that tall, stately woman, born a peasant, and the delicate, 
 proud, sensitive peeress, whose blue blood rolled through a 
 series of dead greatness back to the Conqueror. The con- 
 trast was touching. Both had begun to stoop at the shoul- 
 ders, both had suffered, and they were as far apart in station 
 as social power could place them ; but a host of memories 
 linked them together, and the common sympathies of hu- 
 manity thrilled in the hearts of both with such pain and 
 pleasure that, unconsciously, the little withered hand of the 
 countess clasped that of her old servant. 
 
 " Come in, Yates, and sit down. You are trembling, poor 
 old soul ! The world must have gone hard with you when 
 the touch of my hand makes you shiver so. Sit down. We 
 are both old women now, and may rest ourselves together." 
 
 So the woman, whose last home had been a convict's cell, 
 and the lady whose head had always been sheltered beneath 
 the roofs of a palace, sat down and looked, with sad timidity, 
 at each other. Still the feeling of caste was strong in the 
 servant. She had drawn an ottoman up to the couch, and 
 placed herself on that ; but not until she had taken the shawl 
 from the carpet, and placed it around her mistress, did she 
 thus sit down, as it were, at her feet. 
 
 " Where did you you come from, Hannah Yates ? " 
 
 " From America. I came from the ship three days ago." 
 
 At the word America the old countess shrank back, and 
 held out her hands, as if to avoid a blow. After a little she 
 spoke again, but it was now with a voice sharp with pain. 
 
 " Yates, did you in America ever know anything of my 
 child ? " 
 
 The anguish in that voice startled Hannah Yates, and 
 her old face whitened. How much did the mistress know ? 
 If little, perfect candor might kill her. She had not come 
 there to wound an old woman with the horrors that had 
 darkened her life ; so she answered, cautiously :
 
 THE COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 127 
 
 " Yes, I saw Lady Hope more than once after she came 
 to America." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed the countess. " I may now 
 learn how and when she died." 
 
 " I was not with her when she died," answered the ser- 
 vant, in a low voice. 
 
 " But you saw her before ? " 
 
 " Yes, I saw her often." 
 
 "And the child?" 
 
 " Yes ; the child was with me a good deal." 
 
 " Yates, was my child happy in that strange land?" 
 
 " How can I answer that, my lady ? " 
 
 " Did you see Hope there ? " 
 
 " Once, only once, and that for a moment." 
 
 " And you can tell me no particulars. You have no 
 information to give me with regard to the woman who is 
 Lord Hope's wife ? " 
 
 " Of her I know but little. Eemember, my lady, I am. 
 but a servant." 
 
 " You were my child's nurse. I never looked on you as a 
 common servant, but rather as a faithful friend. So did my 
 poor child. When I learned she was in the same country 
 with you and her foster-brother, my heart was somewhat at 
 rest. But her letters were so studied, so unsatisfactory; 
 yet there was nothing in them of sadness or complaint. 
 Only this, Yates, she never mentioned her husband, not once ! 
 I should hardly have known that he was with her but for 
 the letter in which he told me that I was a childless old 
 woman." 
 
 Mrs. Yates drew a long, heavy sigh. She understood now 
 that the secret of that awful tragedy in New York had been 
 kept from her old mistress, and resolved that it never should 
 reach her never while her will could keep back the horrible 
 truth.
 
 128 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "My lady," she said, with an effort, "there is one thing 
 which our which my young mistress bade me hring to you 
 if if she should a0t live to place them in your own hands 
 herself. It is this which brought me across the ocean." 
 
 As she spoke, Mrs. Yates took up the leathern satchel, 
 which lay against her feet, and opened its rusty clasp with 
 her trembling hands. She drew forth a casket from the 
 scant garments it contained, and, still kneeling on the floor, 
 opened it. A blaze of diamonds broke up from the box. 
 The old countess uttered a feeble cry, and clasped two qui- 
 vering hands over her eyes. 
 
 "She was troubled about bringing them out of England, 
 and sent them to her foster-mother with this letter." 
 
 " Is there a letter ? Yates, give it to me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Yates reached forth the letter, which had begun to 
 turn yellow with age. 
 
 The countess took it, and attempted to open her glasses ; 
 but those little hands trembled so fearfully that she could 
 not loosen the gold which clasped them in. 
 
 " Bead it for me. I cannot ! I cannot ! " 
 
 Two great tears trembled out of the pain in that aged 
 heart, and fell upon her cheeks like frost upon the white 
 leaves of a withered rose. 
 
 Hannah Yates read the letter a sweet, touching epistle, 
 full of mournful affection, which that murdered lady had 
 written only a few days before her death, when some pre- 
 sentiment of coming evil was no doubt upon her. The dia- 
 monds were her mother's, she wrote, and had only crossed 
 the ocean with her because of the haste with which the voy- 
 age to America had been arranged. Fearing for their safe- 
 ty, she was about to intrust them to her foster-mother, who 
 had promised to bring them back to England with her own 
 hands, if any evil should fall upon her, or if her sojourn in 
 America was protracted.
 
 THE COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 129 
 
 " The jewels which belong to the Carset estate, and the 
 child, which will inherit them, I entrust to my dear foster- 
 mother, when I am gone, and I sometimes think that we 
 may never meet again, my mother. This good woman will 
 bring the diamonds, which I will not have endangered, and 
 will tell you about the child, dearer to me than my own life, 
 nay, than my own soul ! Tell Lord Hope, if he should seek 
 to take her, that it was the dying wish of his wife that her 
 child should pass at once into the protection of her own most 
 beloved mother, when Hannah Yates brings her to England. 
 I think he will not deny this to a woman who has loved him 
 better, oh ! how much better ! than herself who would die, 
 if she could, rather than be in the way of his happiness. 
 Give him this letter. I think he will not deny the last 
 request I may ever make of him. I will not say farewell, 
 my mother, because the gloom that is upon me in this 
 strange land may be only the home-sickness of a heart 
 separated from those it loves. But, if this is given to you 
 by my foster-mother, know that a cloud of gloom has set- 
 tled down upon me forever." 
 
 This much fell upon the ears of the countess as she held 
 her breath and listened. 
 
 When Hannah Yates folded the letter, she felt that a 
 gleam of angry fire broke into the eyes bent upon her. 
 
 " Yates," said the countess, sharply, " read the date of 
 that letter." 
 
 The old servant read the date. 
 
 " Fourteen years and more ! Why was that letter kept 
 from me so long ? " 
 
 " I could not bring it." 
 
 " I know you were not young even then, Yates ; but your 
 son, my own protege ! Surely, when my poor child gave 
 you this charge, she gave money also ? Why was the child 
 kept from me and sent to that man ? "
 
 130 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " Yes, there was money ; but my son could not come. 
 We had no power to bring her." 
 
 " Then Hope took her from you by force ? " questioned 
 the countess. " Where is your son, Yates ? He was wrong 
 to permit it 1 " 
 
 " With my young lady." 
 
 " Dead ! Then you, also, are childless?" 
 
 Hannah Yates remembered how the news of her bereave- 
 ment had reached her in that stone cell which was cold as a 
 grave, and shuddered while the lady in her palace question- 
 ed her. Then the old prison-look fell upon her, and she sat 
 motionless, with her eyes upon the floor, saying nothing. 
 How could she explain to that proud lady the bondage in 
 which she had been held ?' 
 
 11 Ah ! if you had come earlier," said the countess, "the 
 child of my child might have been here ! That man would 
 not have dared to keep her ! She would not have been 
 taught to return my advances with insolence by his evil 
 wife." 
 
 " I could not come before," repeated the old woman, 
 humbly. 
 
 " And now it may be too late." 
 
 " God forbid ! " said the old woman. (t No ! no ! He 
 will show me how to complete my task. It is for that I 
 have been kept alive." 
 
 "Yates, you are brave and faithful. I was wrong to 
 question you so. Forgive me, old servant." 
 
 Mrs. Yates took the child-like hand held out to her and 
 pressed it to her lips. 
 
 " I have tried, dear mistress." 
 
 " Go, now, old friend, and let me have time to think. 
 Only this is certain, we do not part again." 
 
 " Mistress, that cannot be. I have yet a task to perform. 
 It may be many, many miles to travel. When that is done,
 
 THE COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 131 
 
 I will come back and spend the few days left to me here. 
 Oh, it seems like home it seems like Heaven to sit within 
 the sound of your voice once more ! But I must depart at 
 once." 
 
 " Where, old friend ? " 
 
 " I do not know yet ; but God will direct me." 
 
 " As I trust that He will direct me," answered the coun- 
 tess, lifting her eyes in momentary prayer. "Yates, you 
 will never know what fearful suspicions have haunted me 
 how hard and bitter they have made me. Oh, had this let- 
 ter come earlier ! " 
 
 " I could not ! I could not ! " 
 
 " I know that, knowing you." 
 
 Hannah Yates lifted her grateful eyes for a moment, and 
 dropped them again. 
 
 " Now that I am free from the weight of these," she said, 
 lifting the casket in her hands, " the toil of my errand will 
 be less." 
 
 The countess looked wistfully into the box, and shook her 
 head. 
 
 " I have been unjust. I have accused that woman falsely. 
 Until this moment, Yates, I have not hesitated to proclaim 
 my belief that the woman they call Lady Hope had pos- 
 sessed herself of these diamonds as she had won my daugh- 
 ter's husband. This is a wrong which wounds me to the 
 soul. It must be atoned for." 
 
 Hannah Yates moved toward the door, but heavily, and 
 with the reluctance of a woman whose strength had been 
 overtasked. The old countess sat gazing upon the jewels. 
 How trivial and worthless they seemed to her now ! Yet 
 the retention of these very diamonds had been a great cause 
 of offence against Lord Hope's second wife. How unjust, 
 how cruel she had been in this ! Was it possible that, in 
 other things, she had "been equally mistaken ? She took up 
 8
 
 132 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 her daughter's letter and read it over. The first shock of 
 its reception had passed away, and nothing but the quiver- 
 ing of the head remained of the fearful agitation that had 
 shook her little form like a reed. 
 
 Hannah Yates stood near the curtain, regarding her with 
 a look of yearning sympathy. How much she had suffered 
 how terribly she had struggled to save that delicate crea- 
 ture from deeper sorrow no human being but herself would 
 ever know ; but the thought filled her heart with infinite 
 tenderness. She stepped back to the couch, took the hand 
 which lay in the lap of her old mistress, and kissed it. 
 
 The old lady lifted her eyes from the letter. They were 
 full of tears those painful, cold tears which come in such 
 scant drops to the aged. 
 
 "Your hands are cold; you look tired. Ring for some 
 wine and biscuit. That poor, white face is a reproach to 
 your mistress, Yates." 
 
 " Yes, I will take some wine and bread before I go it 
 will make me strong ; but not here ! not here ! " 
 
 Again the old countess turned to that letter, motioning 
 with her hand that Yates should stay ; but the old woman 
 did not see that gentle motion of the hand her eyes, also, 
 were full of tears. 
 
 When the Countess of Carset had thrice perused her 
 daughter's letter, she laid it down, and resting her hand 
 tenderly upon it, fell into thought. 
 
 She was a proud but just woman, on whose haughty pow- 
 er old age had fallen like dew, softening all that was imperi- 
 ous, and shading down strong personal pride into thought- 
 ful mercy. 
 
 But for some injustice that she had to repent of, this sim- 
 ple, aifectionate letter, coming as it were from the grave, 
 would have aroused nothing but tender grief. It contained 
 no complaint of the man she had married did not even.
 
 THE EARL'S RETURN. 133 
 
 mention the governess, who now filled her place ; and the 
 possibility that she had terribly wronged these two persons 
 dawned steadily upon her. 
 
 She looked up at last, and spoke to Hannah Yates ; but 
 there was no answer. The old woman was on her road to 
 the railroad station, burdened only with a secret she dared 
 Dot reveal, and the gold which had been saved with the 
 diamonds. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE EARL'S RETURN. 
 
 DAYS passed, and Caroline heard nothing of the new 
 friend she had made ; but one day Eliza brought her a let- 
 ter which had come, inclosed in one from Margaret, who 
 had left town with her mistress so suddenly that she found 
 no time to say farewell. 
 
 This was the letter which broke down so many hopes for 
 the unhappy girl : 
 
 " MY DE;LR, DEAR FRIEND 
 
 " For that you always will be, so long as I have a pulse 
 in my heart or a purpose in my brain ! It does not require 
 an eternity for two young girls like us to become firm 
 friends ; but it will take more than that to destroy the faith 
 and love we feel for each other. I know that you will 
 believe every word that I say, though I may be compelled 
 to seem cruel and faithless. I cannot come to see you. 
 They tell me it might offend my father. I cannot ask you 
 to his house, because it is his, and I have no authority in it. 
 But the time will come when I shall have a house of my
 
 134 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 own, and then no guest shall be so honored. Why do I 
 love you so ? Is it that I remember something ? Or has 
 any person told me that you and I have slept in each oth- 
 er's arms, and breathed upon the same pillow, with an old 
 woman bending over us a noble-faced old woman, with 
 gray hair, and a queenly way of carrying the head ? Have 
 you any remembrance of a woman like that? Do you 
 remember a hot, red fire, streams of water gushing over it, a 
 ladder, a crowd, and great pipes coiling like a tangle of 
 huge snakes along a street full of people ? I do and this 
 no one has ever told me. 
 
 "I want to ask all these things in person. You are from 
 America. I was there once, and after that fire I remember 
 the ocean and a great black ship, which sent banners of 
 smoke over us day after day. 
 
 " Then Oakhurst. I was not four years old then, but my 
 life began in America, so far as I know of it. 
 
 " I cannot help you now ; but if you hate the stage so 
 much, be firm, and madame cannot force you upon it. Be- 
 sides, I am determined to redeem my pledge ; so, if it can 
 be done in no other way, I will just have an early time set 
 for my marriage with Mr. Gloss, and then you shall come to 
 us if any one attempts to oppress you. 
 
 " Pray do not suppose that any one here dislikes you. 
 On the contrary, Lady Hope admits that you are charming. 
 The trouble is that here, in England, there is so much 
 prejudice against the stage. I cannot advise you, having 
 broken down so miserably in my promises ; but I shall 
 not be helpless forever, and when I have power you shall 
 share it. 
 
 "If she insists, if the worst comes to the worst,'' run 
 away, and come down here I mean into the neighborhood. 
 I have plenty of pocket-money, and drive my ponies just 
 where I please. Margaret will help us.
 
 THE EARL'S RETURN. 135 
 
 " I am sure you will forgive me that I cannot do all I 
 promised. It does not grieve you more thau it humiliates 
 me. To think that I should offer so much and perform 
 nothing ! But it is not my fault, nor is it the fault of any 
 one here. 
 
 " Believe in me, trust me, and love me, for I will deserve 
 it all. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " CLARA." 
 
 Lady Clara wrote this letter .on the very night of her 
 return to Oakhurst. That much she insisted on doing. 
 Less, she said, would be cruel treachery. 
 
 Neither Lady Hope nor her brother were disposed to 
 interfere, and so the little missive went, carrying both hope 
 and pain with it. 
 
 It was some days before Hepworth Closs was able to 
 make his entire peace with the young lady. She could not 
 find it in her heart to oppose her stepmother, whose sad, 
 heavy eyes touched her sympathy ; but it was pleasant to 
 tyrannize over a man so much older than herself, whom love 
 had made her slave. 
 
 With him quarreling was delicious, and she was in no 
 haste to cut her enjoyment short. But even the pleasure 
 of tormenting one's lover has its reaction ; so one day, as 
 the sun went down, pouring a flood of crimson into the 
 bosom of that old cedar of Lebanon, Clara relented a little, 
 and allowed Hepworth to kiss her hand. It was impossible 
 to hold out longer, with all the leaves quivering in that 
 soft air, and the little birds hiding away among them, 
 chirping to each other, and setting a sweet example to the 
 lovers. 
 
 Of course an ardent man, very much in love, is not 
 likely to rest content with the touch of his lady-love's
 
 136 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 hand after he has been kept in quarantine four or five 
 days. Hepworth was ardent, and desperately in love ; so 
 he took advantage of her soft relenting, and drew her 
 close to his side, laid her head agaiusi his heart, and, with 
 his cheek touching the thick waves of her hair, began 
 to talk of the future, when they would be all in all to each 
 other. 
 
 Clara shut her eyes, and allowed her head to rest so close 
 to her lover's heart that it rose and fell with its strong 
 beating. She loved the music of that full, warm pulse, and 
 a smile parted her lips as she listened. 
 
 Thus they rested awhile in silence, she, carried into a 
 dreamy elysium by the swell of those full heart-beats ; he, 
 calmed by the stir of the cedar-leaves, looking into her face, 
 and wondering, in the humility of true affection, how that 
 bright young creature had ever been won to love him. He 
 bent his head down softly, and kissed the blue veins on her 
 temple. 
 
 " Are you sure, very, very sure, that you love me, 
 Clara ? " 
 
 She reached up one arm, wound it about his neck, laid 
 her cheek against his, and whispered : 
 
 " Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Lady Clara ! Mr. Hepworth Gloss ! " 
 
 It was a man's voice, stern and clear as the clash of bells. 
 Both the lover and the girl sprang to their feet. 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 "Lord Hope!" 
 
 For a moment the two men stood face to face. They had 
 changed since their last parting ; still that was but dimly 
 seen in the light of a young moon, which was rising over 
 the trees as the rich crimson faded away. 
 
 Hepworth saw that all the wild passion of those times 
 had died out of that face, leaving it calm and hard ; but
 
 THE EARL'S RETURN. 187 
 
 other change was concealed by the silvery quiver of light 
 that fell upon it through the leaves. 
 
 Hepworth was the first to speak. - 
 
 " My lord, you have received my letter, I trust ? " 
 
 " Yes and came at once to answer it." 
 
 " By your tone, by your manner, I should fear " 
 
 "While this young lady is by, we will not speak of your 
 fears," said the earl, with a slow motion of the hand. 
 " Clara, you will find your Lady Hope. She will, perhaps, 
 be glad to hear that I have returned." 
 
 " Not while you meet me and and Hepworth in this 
 fashion, papa. I don't like it. One would think you in- 
 tended to make trouble." 
 
 " Foolish child ! Go as I tell you." 
 
 " Not while you look at me like that. Do you know, papa, 
 that you have forgotten to kiss me, or even shake hands ; 
 and that is a thing I never saw you guilty of before." 
 
 Clara drew close to the haughty man, and turning her 
 mouth into a half-open apple-blossom, held it up to be. 
 kissed. 
 
 The earl put her aside gently, but with firmness. 
 
 "Go to Lady Hope, as I bade you," he said. "This is 
 no hour for trifling." 
 
 Clara stood motionless. All the color had left her face, 
 even to the lips. 
 
 " Papa, are you in earnest ? " 
 
 " In earnest ? Yes." 
 
 "And you mean to refuse this gentleman?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly I mean to refuse that gentleman." 
 
 There was an emphasis of fine irony laid on the last 
 word, which Hepworth felt with a sting of indignation; 
 but he controlled himself, in respect to Clara's presence, 
 and stood aloof, pale and stern as the man before him. 
 
 " I will go," said "Clara ; " but, before I leave you, let me
 
 138 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 say one thing: I love this gentleman. But for that, he 
 never would have spoken to me or written to you. It was 
 not his fault, or of his seeking. He had not been here a 
 day before I loved him without knowing it. Now, all the 
 world may know it for aught I care, for I never will marry 
 any other man ! " 
 
 Lord Hope did not reply to her, but turned to Hepworth. 
 
 " You have done honorable work, and in a short time ! " 
 he said. " I was not aware that Lady Hope would enter- 
 tain her relatives in my absence, and with this result." 
 
 Hepworth did not answer then, but turning to Lady 
 Clara,' reached out his hand. 
 
 " Let me lead you to the house," he said. "After that I 
 can meet Lord Hope on more equal terms." 
 
 Clara took his arm ; but her father interposed. 
 
 "I will take charge of the lady," he said, with haughty 
 coldness, drawing her arm within his, and leading her to 
 tbe terrace, where he left her and returned to the cedar. 
 
 " Now, sir, let us conclude this matter at once. You ask 
 the hand of my daughter in marriage. I refuse it. You 
 are here under my roof an unexpected and unbidden guest. 
 Prom this hour you cease to be welcome." 
 
 "My lord, had I never known you in the past, never 
 served you in an unlawful desire, you would not have dared 
 to address me in this fashion. If you and I meet to bandy 
 insults, it is because the past has left no mutual respect 
 between us; but I have this advantage over you ; the sins 
 which have drawn on me even your contempt have been 
 long since repented of, while yours, compared to which 
 mine fade into innocence, seem but to have 'hardened into 
 pride." 
 
 Lord Hope smiled. 
 
 " Of what crime does Mr. Hepworth Gloss charge me ? " 
 
 " I make no special charge, Lord Hope ; but there is an
 
 THE EARL'S RETURN. 139 
 
 old woman in America suffering the penalty of a crime 
 which she never committed which you know she never 
 committed." 
 
 "The law decided otherwise, if I remember rightly," 
 answered the earl, in a quiet, calm voice. " But even if it 
 did not, does that relate to the question in hand ?" 
 
 "No, no, and I am to blame in mentioning it Heaven 
 knows I wish to think the best ! 1 admit, my lord, your 
 prejudices against me would have been just when we knew 
 each other so well ; but I was very young then and can 
 fairly claim to have worked out an honorable redemption" 
 from the faults of my 3 r outh. Believe me, I have won more 
 than a respectable position among men ; have wealth from 
 my own exertions enough to satisfy even your wishes. 
 True, I have not the rank to match yours ; but there was a 
 time when you thought it no disgrace to mate with my 
 family." 
 
 Lord Hope was moved out of his proud calm now. He 
 lifted his hand with a suddenness that was threatening, and 
 cried out : 
 
 " Peace, sir ! I have heard enough of this !" 
 
 " But I must remind you again that Lady Hope is my 
 only sister, and in these insults you degrade her." 
 
 " Degrade her, when she is my wife ! " 
 
 These words were drawn out with proud emphasis that 
 stung Hepworth like a wasp. 
 
 " My lord," he said, " I will bear much from you, 
 because I once loved you, but more from the fact that you 
 are my sister's husband and her father; but I warn you 
 not even by a tone to cast reproach or slur upon your wife. 
 She became such against my wishes and in spite of my 
 protest. That lady has all the elements of greatness 
 within herself." 
 
 "What right had you to Wish or protest?"
 
 140 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "The self-same right that you have to drive me from 
 your daughter. You did not heed my wishes, why expect 
 me to prove more delicate ? " 
 
 " Because I can enforce what I wish, and you could not." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 "By asking Mr. Hepworth Gloss to leave Oakhurst at 
 once, and by providing against all chance of his coming 
 here again." 
 
 Gloss turned very white, and his hand clenched and 
 unclenched itself with passionate force. 
 
 " My lord, this is a cruel insult, which I have not 
 deserved ! " 
 
 All at once the earl turned, with some show of feeling, 
 and looked Hepworth steadily in the face. 
 
 " Hepworth Gloss, listen to me. If I seem cruel and 
 unmanly, it is because I wish to be kind. The hand 
 which sweeps a moth from its circling around a candle, 
 must seem very cruel to the poor insect. I tell you, fairly, 
 Hepworth Gloss, it is not so much pride of birth or per- 
 sonal dislike that prompts me to deny my daughter to you. 
 But she is heiress in entail to the Carset title and Hough- 
 ton Castle, a noble title, without support, unless the old 
 countess makes her heiress, by will, of her personal estates. 
 By marrying your sister, 1 mortally offended this old lady. 
 Kachael has been, from first to last, the special object of 
 her dislike. Lady Clara has added to this by refusing to 
 visit Houghton unless her stepmother is received there also. 
 This quarrel may throw one of the richest inheritances in 
 England out of my family, and all from my unfortunate 
 marriage." 
 
 "Your unfortunate marriage!" exclaimed Gloss, hotly.. 
 
 "How could it be otherwise?" answered Lord 'Hope, 
 sadly. 
 
 There was something in Hope's voice that touched Hep-
 
 THE EARL'S RETURN. 141 
 
 worth Gloss with feelings akin to those he had felt for the 
 proud young man years ago. 
 
 " This was the language I used to my sister the night 
 before she became your wife," he said. 
 
 "Oh, my God! if she had but listened if she had but 
 listened ! " 
 
 "Lord Hope! do I understand? Has your marriage 
 with Rachael Gloss come to this? '' 
 
 " Hepworth, we will not discuss this subject. It is one 
 which belongs exclusively to Lady Hope and myself." 
 
 '' But she is my sister ! " 
 
 " Between a husband and wife no relative has claims." 
 
 " Lord Hope, I was once your friend." 
 
 " I have not forgotten it. Unfortunately for us both, 
 you were. I do not say this ungratefully. On the con- 
 trary, I am about to appeal to that old friendship once 
 more. You ask for my daughter. To give her to a brother 
 of Rachael Gloss would be the bitterest insult I could offer 
 the old lady at Houghton. It would close our last hopes of 
 a reconciliation. The estates, in doubt now, would be 
 eternally lost. I cannot afford this. Oakhurst is strictly 
 entailed ; I am heavily in debt, so heavily, that we are 
 compelled to practise the most harassing economy. From 
 me Clara will inherit nothing ; from her grandmother 
 worse than nothing if she dies offended with us. I am told 
 that she is relenting that she has been heard to speak 
 kindly of Clara. Can you ask me to insult her over again, 
 knowing all the wrong I have done her, all the ruin it 
 would bring on my child ? " 
 
 "What can I do?" exclaimed Gloss, who felt the reason 
 of this appeal. " How can I act generously to you fairly 
 to her ? " 
 
 " Go away. She is joung, volatile, capricious, but gen-
 
 142 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 erous as the day. Be open with her; tell her why you 
 leave Oakhurst and how impossible it is to return." 
 
 " But there is one wild hope for me the possibility of 
 gaining this old lady's consent." 
 
 Lord Hope smiled in pity of the forlorn idea. 
 
 " You may as well ask the stars of heaven to fall." 
 
 " But it may chance that I can plead my cause with 
 her." 
 
 " Then your best argument will he that I have driven 
 you ignoniiniously from Oakhurst," said Lord Hope, with 
 fine irony in his smile. " She will forgive much to any 
 man I am known to dislike." 
 
 " My lord, I love your daughter so entirely, that it is 
 impossible for me to give up all hope. Leave me this one 
 gleam, or, failing in that, give me such chances as time 
 may bring." 
 
 Again Lord Hope answered with that keen smile. 
 
 " I withhold nothing from you but my consent." 
 
 " But, if Lady Carset gives hers ? " 
 
 " Then I can safely promise mine." 
 
 Again the smile came, and pierced Hepworth like an 
 arrow. 
 
 " Now I will intrude here no longer," he said, taking his 
 hat from the ground where it had been lying. 
 
 " It is better so, inhospitable as you may think me for 
 saying it. Lady Hope will be grieved, I know." 
 
 " I am her only relative," said Gloss, with deep feeling. 
 
 "I know it; but we are all making sacrifices. I am, 
 certainly, in wishing you farewell." 
 
 Hope reached out his hand. It was clear he wished 
 Gloss to go without further leave-taking. . Gloss understood 
 the motion. 
 
 " I will not pain my sister with a farewell. Explain this 
 as you please, or say that I will write unless that is pro-
 
 THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. 143 
 
 bibited. As for tbe young lady, I sball never seek her 
 again under your roof; but the time may come when I 
 sball assert the right which every man has to choose for 
 himself, and win the lady of his love, if he can. Mean- 
 time, Lady Clara is free as air. Tell her so." 
 
 With these words Hepworth Gloss turned resolutely from 
 the house in which he had tasted pure happiness for the 
 first time in his life, and went away. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 LADY HOPE was in her own room when Clara came in, 
 pale and breathless, with news of her father's return. A 
 cry broke from the woman, so thrilling in its exquisite joy, 
 that it won Clara even from a remembrance of the harsh- 
 ness with which her lover had been received. In the 
 birth of her own love, she found intense sympathy for the 
 intense passion that seemed to consume her stepmother like 
 a living fire. 
 
 " Oh ! mamma Kachael, do you love him so much, and is 
 this love nothing but a torment? " she said, kneeling down 
 at the woman's feet, and trying to draw that wild face down 
 to hers. " He is so gruel, so cruel, I almost hate him." 
 
 Lady Hope pushed the girl from her. 
 
 "What? Hate him?" 
 
 " Then why don't he love you more ? " 
 
 "He does love me ; how dare you question it?" 
 
 The words were harsh, but Rachael's voice faltered in 
 uttering them, and the gloom of a hidden doubt broke into
 
 144 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 those great black eyes. Clara saw the look, and her heart 
 ached with sympathy. 
 
 " Then why does.he stay from us so long ? " 
 
 "Ah, why ! " answered Rachael, and the two plaintive 
 words wink deep into that young heart. 
 
 " And why does he treat Hepworth, your own brother, 
 so cruelly ? " 
 
 " Has he done that ? Oh, no, no! " 
 
 "Yes, mamma Eachael. We both love him so much; 
 but he is very hard with us just now. I thought he would 
 love Hepworth for your sake." 
 
 "Ah ! I thought so too. It was my last dream." 
 
 "And my first," said Clara, with girlish tears in her eyes. 
 "He was very angry they were both angry. I think he 
 meant to insult Hepworth and drive him away, knowing 
 how proud he is, and he will do it. Oh, mamma Eachael, 
 I am so miserable ! " 
 
 " Miserable ! " cried Rachael, looking gloomily into that 
 fair young face. " Poor child! you have no idea what mis- 
 ery is. God forbid that you ever should !" 
 
 " Is not this misery ? Papa against me, Hepworth look- 
 ing so proud and stormy. You. Oh ! mamma, I feel for 
 you so much. Indeed, you look more unhappy than I am ; 
 but it is hard." 
 
 " Hush, dear ! That is your father's voice." 
 
 " Yes, how low and cutting. I cannot stand it. He is 
 coming this way. I will go to my room." 
 
 For the first time in her life, Lady Clara shrank from 
 meeting her father. 
 
 " Do not leave me yet," said Rachael, passing swiftly 
 toward the window. " They are together still. I cannot 
 see their faces, but they both stand up sternly in the moon- 
 light. What can they be saying ? " 
 
 " Something harsh, I know. Lord Hope, when he came
 
 THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. 145 
 
 up so still and stern, did not seem like my father. His face 
 looked like marble. He would not kiss me, and and put 
 me aside, when I offered, as if I had done something ter- 
 ribly wrong, in just getting naturally in love with the most 
 splendid fellow that ever lived. I should think he^inight 
 remember when he fell so desperately in love with you him- 
 self, and have some mercy on a poor little girl." Here Clara 
 seemed to catch a restless infection from Rachael, and join- 
 ed her in a quick, unequal walk up and down the room, 
 pausing now and then to dash the tears from her eyes, or 
 gaze in wonder at Lady Hope's face, which bore an expres- 
 sion she had never seen in all its gloominess till then. 
 
 All at once Eachael paused in her walk, and taking Clara 
 in her arms, looked at her with such earnest tenderness, 
 that the girl hushed her sobs to listen. 
 
 " My darling, do you love him so much ? " 
 " Better than ray father ; better than you. Oh ! forgive 
 me, but it is so better than my own life. I think it is 
 worship, not love, dearest mamma." 
 
 " Great heavens ! what trouble I have brought upon us 
 all ! Oh why, why did he come here ! " cried Eachael, 
 beginning to pace the floor again, clasping her hands and 
 tearing them apart, as if angry with herself. " They were 
 such friends once, and loved each other like brothers. How 
 could I think it would turn out like this ? I so needed him 
 this one brother ; had such hope in his influence, but it is 
 all over." 
 
 " What is all over ? You will not permit it ? You will 
 not let him be sent away?" 
 
 "How can I help it? What power or influence is left 
 to me ? " answered Rachael, desperately. 
 
 " Oh, mamma Rachael, will you fail me ? You ! " 
 "Hush ! he is coming. ^ I hear his step on the terrace." 
 How that dusky face lighted up. That woman trembled
 
 146 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 all over under the sound of that man's tread. He was 
 coming to her, there in the room, in which they had once 
 been so happy; coming to her, perhaps in anger. That 
 was nothing. Anger itself would be Heaven, compared to 
 the cold politeness that had sometimes almost frozen her to 
 death. She turned to Clara. 
 
 " Go, my child. I will see your father alone." 
 
 Clara went to her room. Through the window which 
 looked out upon the lawn, she saw Hepworth Closs come 
 out from the shadow of the cedar, and walk swiftly toward 
 the avenue. By the proud lift of his head, and those quick 
 steps, that seemed to spurn the earth he trod upon, she 
 knew that he had parted from her father in anger, and 
 threw up the window. 
 
 " Hepworth ! Hepworth ! Stop ! Stop ! and tell me 
 where you are going ! " 
 
 He did not hear her, the storm in his heart was too 
 violent. He had been driven forth from his sister's roof 
 with a cool politeness that was insulting. The commonest 
 courtesies of life had been denied to him, by the man who 
 had once been his friend. He scarcely thought of Clara, 
 then, a sense of burning indignation swept everything else 
 from his mind. 
 
 Clara leaned from the window, trembling with sudden ap- 
 prehension. Was he really going ? Had her father treat- 
 ed him with indignity ? Was he giving her up without a 
 struggle or a word of farewell ? 
 
 While she asked herself these questions, Closs disappeared 
 among the trees in the park, and was swallowed up in the 
 black shadows. 
 
 " He shall not go ! " cried the girl, in wild excitement. 
 " He shall not be driven away by papa, or any one else ! 
 Where is my jacket ? What has that girl done with my 
 hat? Ah! here, and here!"
 
 THE WIFE AND THEDAUGHTEB. 147 
 
 She huddled the shawl around her, tossed the little 
 sailor's hat to her head, and, opening the chamber door so 
 swiftly that it made no noise, darted down stairs, and, avoid- 
 ing the principal entrance, reached the lawn by leaping 
 from one of the drawing-room windows, where she paused a 
 moment to draw breath. But no time was to be lost. At 
 the rate Hepworth was walking, he must now be well on 
 his way to the lodge. The avenue swept away from the 
 house in a grand curve. She knew of a path through the 
 trees which would lead her straight to old Badger's lodge. 
 It was shadowy and lonesome, but what did she care for 
 that? No deer ever bounded down that path more lightly 
 than Clara went. She did not stop to think of propriety, 
 or of her own object. Her heart told her that Hepworth 
 had been driven from the house, perhaps thinking that she 
 would sanction the outrage ; for it was an outrage, even if 
 her own father had done it. He should not go away, be- 
 lieving it possible for her to prove so base. 
 
 On she went, eager, breathless, with the streamers float- 
 ing out from her hat, and her white sacque flying open, 
 fairly racing through the moonlight, like a frightened fairy. 
 
 As she came in sight of the lodge, the clang of an iron 
 gate falling into position, brought a cry of dismay from her 
 lips. He had reached the highway. Dared she follow him 
 there ? 
 
 Clara came out into the avenue, panting for breath. She 
 could hear his quick steps upon the road. How terribly 
 fast he was walking toward the village. Yes, he was surely 
 going that way. 
 
 Old Badger stood in the lodge door, shaded by a trailing 
 drapery of ivy, and saw the young lady standing there in 
 the moonlight, wringing her hands and absolutely crying. 
 In his astonishment he addressed Jules confidentially, as 
 she lay on the stepping* stone at his feet,
 
 148 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " It is the young lady as sure as you live, old girl, and 
 she's a following that handsome fellow as just left a golden 
 sovereign in my hand, Jules. : Something has happened up 
 yonder, Jules. The master has come back and found out 
 what you and I knew all the time. If that handsome 
 brother of my lady hasn't got a ticket-of-leave, I lose my 
 guess ; but what are we to do with the young lady, old girl ? 
 That is what is a puzzling me just now." 
 
 Jules arose, stretched herself, and threw out one paw as 
 she settled down again, when Badger broke out in a glow 
 of admiration. 
 
 "Eight, Jules. In a matter where the sects are con- 
 cerned, you are true as a clock. I'll show myself; I'll help 
 Ler." 
 
 Jules gave a faint yelp, which brought Clara to the door. 
 
 Oh, Badger, you here ! Go and call him back. Here is 
 some money ; run like a deer ; tell him I want to speak 
 with him must speak with him. It's about Lady Hope ; 
 but no matter. Why don't you start, Badger? It's half 
 an hour since I first told you." 
 
 But Badger did not start. He stood a little way from 
 the door, examining the money she had given him, by the 
 moonlight, and muttering to himself; when the impatient 
 girl broke out again. 
 
 " A shilling ! Was it only a shilling. I gave you ? How 
 provoking ! I thought it was gold. Well, start ! start ! 
 and I'll make it a sovereign two, three only bring him 
 back!" 
 
 Old Badger went off with a rush now. Ordering Jules 
 to stay with the young mistress and mind the gate, he made 
 swift progress down the road. 
 
 " I say, sir ! I say ! Halloo ! I say ! " 
 
 Hepworth checked his rapid walk, and looked back. 
 Badger came up with a run, feeling that some extra exer-
 
 THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. 149 
 
 tion was necessary, when so much gold lay in the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " There is a person well, a lady a young lady who 
 wishes to have you turn back, sir. She is waiting at the 
 lodge, sir; and I promised to bring you back, dead or alive, 
 sir dead or alive ! " 
 
 Hepworth felt his heart give a great leap. Was it pos- 
 sible that Clara could have followed him ? or was it Lady 
 Hope? 
 
 "A lady ! " he said, " and at the lodge ? " 
 
 "A young lady such as isn't commonly seen following 
 young gents by moonlight ; but come, sir, she is wait- 
 ing." 
 
 Hepworth turned at once, and retraced his steps. Clara 
 saw him approaching the gate, and swinging it back, ran 
 to meet him, with tears still quivering on her anxious 
 face. 
 
 She passed Badger, who was resolved to earn his money 
 at least by discretion, and moved in great haste toward the 
 lodge, never once looking back, as in honor bound, he told 
 Jules in his next confidential conversation. 
 
 " Oh, Hepworth, how cruel ! how wicked ! Tell me truly, 
 were you going without a word ? " 
 
 Clara had clasped both hands over her lover's arm, and 
 was slowly leading him back, with her face uplifted in sweet 
 reproachfulness to his, and drawing deep, long sighs of 
 thanksgiving that she had him there, chained by her linked 
 hands. 
 
 " I do not know. How can I tell ? Your father has dis- 
 missed me from his house." 
 
 " He has ? I thought as much ; and thinking so, came 
 after you but only to say that I love you dearly ten times 
 more since this has happened and nothing on earth shall 
 ever make me marry any other person."
 
 150 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Hepworth looked down into that generous face, and his 
 own took a softer expression in the moonlight. 
 
 "Your father is against us," he said. " I think it must 
 be open defiance, or separation at any rate, for a time." 
 
 Clara's face clouded. She loved her father, and was a 
 little afraid of him as well ; but that was nothing to the 
 passionate attachment she felt for Hepworth Gloss. She 
 would have defied the whole world rather than give him 
 up ; but open disobedience was a terrible thing to her. All 
 at once she brightened. 
 
 " Some day, you know, I shall be my own mistress. We 
 can wait. I am so young. When I am Countess of Car- 
 set^, come and claim me. No one can stand between us 
 then." 
 
 She spoke firmly, and with the dignity of deep feeling, 
 standing upright and looking bravely into his face, as if 
 she were a peeress already, and>was ready to pledge all the 
 honor of a long race of ancestors for the faith that was in 
 her. 
 
 "Ah, if you were only the bright, handsome girl you 
 seem, with no dignity to keep up, no belongings but your 
 own sweet self, how grateful I should be ! From this night, 
 Clara, we would never part." 
 
 " Oh, if it were ! If I hadn't anything to expect ! But, 
 no ! My old grandmother will be sure to leave me everv- 
 thing she has, just out of spite, when all I want on earth is 
 my liberty, and the love that belongs to me. How I should 
 like to" 
 
 "To what, Clara?" 
 
 " Nothing only I was thinking how jolly it would be 
 just to tie on my hat, button my jacket, and go off with 
 you to America, where people can't die and leave you titles 
 and things ; but it is of no use thinking of such a thing.
 
 THE WIFE AND THE DAtJGHTER. 151 
 
 It would break mamma Kachael's heart ; and she needs me 
 so much." 
 
 Hep worth caught his breath. The thought had been in 
 his mind. But for his sister, I think he would have pro- 
 posed it. 
 
 "Do not tempt me, darling. We cannot abandon her." 
 
 " Oh, no," answered Clara, pouting a little, " I didn't 
 mean anything of the kind. Of course, we have got to 
 part now ; I know that." 
 
 She clung to his arm more closely, and made him walk 
 slower. Both their faces grew pale and sad in the moon- 
 light. She could not speak because of the sobs that came 
 swelling into her throat. He was silent from a bitter sense 
 of bereavement. After those few weeks of entire happiness, 
 was he to be driven into the cold world again, leaving the 
 angel of his paradise behind ? 
 
 They were drawing near the gate now. Hepworth would 
 not pass into the boundaries of a man who had wounded 
 him so grievously, so he paused by the park-wall, snatched 
 her to his bosom, kissed her lips, her eyes, her hair, blessing 
 her with his soul, promising to find her again, to be faitn- 
 ful, begging her to love him and no one else, until he broke 
 away from her and fled down the highway, dashing the tears 
 from his eyes as he went. 
 
 She called after him. She ran a few paces v.ith her arms 
 extended, entreating him to come back ; but he would not 
 hear. All his brave manhood had been taxed to its utmost. 
 He knew well enough that to go back was to take the girl 
 with him, and he was not selfish enough for that. 
 
 So poor Lady Clara watched him, till he passed quite 
 away into the shadows, with her back against the wall, and 
 her hands hanging down loose, as they had fallen after her 
 last cry. Then she crept slowly back through the gate,
 
 152 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 which Badger had left open, and away into the depths of 
 the park, crying as if her heart would break. 
 
 Badger saw her through the diamond-shaped panes of the 
 lodge-window, and muttered : 
 
 " Poor thing, she has forgot the gold ; but never mind, it 
 will come." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 LADY HOPE stood in the middle of the room, breathless. 
 The supreme joy of her husband's presence drove every 
 other feeling from her heart. She forgot her brother, her 
 step-child, everything, in the one thought that he was near 
 her. But, was it certain that he would come ? How many 
 months, nay, years, had passed since he had entered that 
 room, once so dear to him that no other apartment in that 
 spacious mansion seemed pleasant? She had allowed noth- 
 ing to be changed since those days. Year by year those 
 silken hangings and crimson cushions had lost their bright- 
 ness and grown threadbare ; but he had pressed those cush- 
 ions and been shaded by the curtains, and that gave them 
 a brightness and glory to her which uo stuffs of India or 
 cloth of gold could replace. 
 
 She knew that he was offended, and doubted. But 
 would he come ? His step grew slow ; he paused. Would 
 he retreat at last, and leave her there, in an agony of disap- 
 pointment? 
 
 No after a moment's hesitation, the steps advanced. 
 The very certainty of his approach suffocated her. She had
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 153 
 
 not deemed herself so weak. All the strength left her 
 frame. 
 
 She sank down upon a couch near the window. The 
 moonlight fell over her like a veil of silver tissue, and 
 through it she looked like the Rachael Gloss of New York. 
 
 Lord Hope tore away the silvery veil with his presence, 
 for the shadow of his tall person fell across it, throwing the 
 woman back into darkness. 
 
 But the light which he took from her slanted across his 
 face, and softened it back to youth. Eachael reached forth 
 her arms. 
 
 " Oh, Norton ! have you come back again ? " 
 
 Her voice vibrated between passion and pathos. Her 
 trembling limbs rustled the silken garments around her. 
 
 He stood looking at her, not sternly, but with grave sad- 
 ness. It was nearly two months since they had met, but 
 he did not advance, or even reach out his hand. Then she 
 cried out, in a burst of bitter anguish : 
 
 " Oh, Norton, will you not speak to me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Rachael," he said, very gently. " I came to speak 
 with you." 
 
 Lord Hope advanced through the window. No lights 
 were burning, for in her sadness Rachael had thought the 
 moonbeams enough. 
 
 She moved upon the couch, looking in his face with 
 pathetic entreaty. 
 
 He sat down after a moment's hesitation, and took her 
 hand in his. 
 
 Awhile before that hand had been cold as ice, but now a 
 glow of feverish joy warmed it, and her slender fingers 
 clung around his with nervous force. She was afraid to 
 loosen her clasp, lest he should leave her again. 
 
 " Ah, Norton ! you have been away so long, so long ! " 
 
 " Has that made you more unhappy, Kachael ? "
 
 154 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " More unhappy ? God help me ! have I any happiness 
 beyond your presence ?" 
 
 " I sometimes think that we two might be less " 
 
 Lord Hope paused. The hand in his seemed turning to 
 marble. 
 
 " In mercy, do not say that, Norton ! Surely you cannot 
 return love like mine with hate so cruel ! " 
 
 " We will not talk of hate, Eachael. It is an unseemly 
 word." 
 
 " But you are angry with me?" 
 
 " No, the time has gone by when I can be angry with you, 
 Eachael." * 
 
 " Oh ! have some mercy upon me, Norton, and tell me 
 how I have lost your love for you did love me." 
 
 " God only knows how well ! " answered the man, with a 
 throe of bitter passion breaking up the calm he had main- 
 tained. 
 
 "Tell me, then tell me again! It is so long since I 
 have had a happy thought ! I will not be put off so ! Now 
 that you are here, in this room, with my hand in yours, I 
 will not let you go ! Tell me, Norton oh, tell me why it is 
 that you have changed so completely ? This question 
 haunts me. I dream of it in the night ; I think of it all 
 day long. Answer me. Though the truth cleave my heart, 
 I would rather hear it ! Why have you ceased to love me ? 
 Why is it that you can leave me so ? " 
 
 '' Kachael, I will answer you so far as this : I have not 
 ceased to love you." 
 
 The woman uttered a cry, and fell down upon her knees 
 at her husband's feet, in a storm of wild and happy tears. 
 He raised her up, bent forward as if to kiss her, but drew 
 back with a heavy sigh. She felt him recoil, and the shud- 
 der which chilled him reached her also. 
 

 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 155 
 
 "You love me, and yet shrink from my touch ! Ah, me ! 
 what has dug this gulf between us ? " 
 
 " It is the work of our own hands," he said, with strong 
 emotion. " It is your curse and mine that we must love 
 each other, Rachael love each other, and yet be apart." 
 
 " Apart ! Oh ! will there be no end no season " 
 
 " Yes, Rachael, when we can both repent that we ever 
 did love each other. Then, perhaps, a merciful God may 
 forgive us the great sin which has been our happiness and 
 our torment." 
 
 " But you love me ? You do love me ? " 
 
 "A thousand times better than my own miserable life ! " 
 
 " And you speak of torment ! Who shall ever dare say 
 that word again to Eachael Gloss ? When they do, I will 
 answer, ' He loves me ! he loves me ! ' 3 
 
 The woman sprang up, exulting. Her hands were 
 clasped, her face was radiant. It seemed impossible that 
 unhappiness should ever visit her again. 
 
 " Poor woman ! Poor, unhappy woman ! " 
 
 Hope took her hand in his, and drew her down to his 
 side. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind. For the 
 moment, her joy seemed complete. 
 
 " I cannot believe it ! Say again, ' Eachael, I love 
 you.' " 
 
 " Have I not said that it is your curse and mine ? " 
 
 " Oh, Norton ! how cruel, with that sweet word sinking 
 into my heart, after pining and waiting for it so long ! Do 
 not withhold it from me, or think of it as a curse." 
 
 " Hush, Rachael ! You are only exulting over Dead Sea 
 fruit. It is all ashes, ashes. Words that, up to this time, 
 I had forbidden to my lips, have been said, because of a 
 terrible danger that threatens us. Rachael, did you know 
 of the letter Hepworth sent me ? "
 
 156 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Eachael was a brave woman, even in her faults, and 
 would not deny anything. 
 
 " Yes, he wrote the letter here," she said. 
 
 "And you sanctioned his pursuit of my daughter? " 
 
 " Yes, Norton. I loved him ; he was my only relative. 
 That he might live near me was the last forlorn hope of 
 my life. Before you condemn me, remember how few 
 people exist in this world for me to love. I have no 
 friends. I was so cold, so dreary ! There was nothing 
 left to me but your child and this one brother. How 
 could I part with either of them ? That was to be utterly 
 alone ! " 
 
 Lord Hope checked this pathetic plea. It shook his 
 resolution, and that with a vigor she could not understand. 
 He looked her steadily in the face. 
 
 "Eachael Gloss, could you have given up my child to 
 that man?" 
 
 Eachael fixed her wild eyes on the face turned upon her 
 so sternly. 
 
 "Why, why?" 
 
 " Had you no thought of the ruin it would bring upon 
 her?" 
 
 " Euin ? Did you say ruin ? " 
 
 " Could you see that innocent girl's hand in his without 
 thrills of painful recollection ? " 
 
 "Why, he loves her ; she loves him." 
 
 " So much the more painful." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 Her lips were white now, and the teeth gleamed and 
 chattered between them. 
 
 "Have you no dread that he will bring that one event, 
 perpetually before us ? " 
 
 Bachael shook her head.
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 157 
 
 " Does nothing tell you that he was mixed up in that 
 tragedy ? " 
 
 "What should tell me of that? It was the crime of a 
 miserable old woman." 
 
 " Still you understand nothing of that which is a contin- 
 ual pain to me." 
 
 A burst of hysterical laughter answered him. The 
 nerves of that woman were undoubtedly giving way. 
 
 " You are mocking me. It is only fiends who torment 
 their victims. You are iny husband, and should know 
 better ! " 
 
 " Rachael Gloss, control yourself!" 
 
 "I am not Rachael Gloss!" cried the woman, fiercely. 
 "You would not have treated her so. It is Lady Hope 
 you are putting to torture. Oh, Norton ! what have I 
 done to you ? What have I done to you that you should 
 mock me so ? " 
 
 " I wish to save my child to save myself." 
 
 "Well, is that all ? She shall never speak to Hepworth 
 again. Yes, what is my brother, or anybody in the world, 
 compared to one smile from my husband ? " 
 
 " And you will help me to reconcile Clara to that which 
 must be?" 
 
 " I will do anything, everything that you wish, only do 
 not leave me again." 
 
 " But I must sometimes go out." 
 
 "And I cannot go with you. Rachael Gloss is not good 
 enough for your high-born friends. Lady Carset has put 
 her ban on your wife, and the nobility of England accept 
 it. But for this I might have been the companion of your 
 visits, the helpmate of your greatness for I have the 
 power. I could have done so much, so much in this great 
 world of yours, but that old woman would not let me. It
 
 158 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 is cruel ! it is cruel ! You would have loved me now as 
 you did at first, but for her." 
 
 Lord Hope took Kachael's hand in his. 
 
 "Ah, Kachael!" he said, "if you could but understand 
 the love which can neither be cherished nor cast away, 
 which pervades a whole life, only to disturb it ! Between 
 you and me must ever come the shadow of a woman we 
 cannot talk of, but who stands eternally between us two. 
 Even in the first days of our passionate delirium I felt 
 this viperous truth creeping under the roses with which we 
 madly hoped to smother it. The thought grew and grew, 
 like a parasite upon the heart. It clung to mine, bound it 
 down, made it powerless. Oh, would to God the memory 
 of that one night could be lifted from my soul ! The 
 presence of your brother here has brought it back upon me 
 with terrible force. But, thank God, he is gone ! " 
 
 " Gone ! What, my brother? Am I never to see him 
 again ? " 
 
 " Not unless you wish to drive your husband from his 
 own house. I will not be reminded, by any one connected 
 with that night, that it was the mad passion of our love 
 which drove that most unhappy woman from her home, her 
 country, and, at last, into her grave ! " 
 
 Kachael sat with her glittering eyes fastened on his face. 
 She longed to ask a question ; but it seemed to freeze upon 
 her lips. But, at last, she spoke : 
 
 " Do you repent that love, then ? " 
 
 " No ! no ! Would to God I had the power to repent ! 
 but I cannot, Kachael, with you by me ! "
 
 THE STORMY NIGHT. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING. 
 
 LADY CLARA found her way into the house unnoticed, 
 and stole back to her own room, weary and heart-sick from 
 the excitement she had passed through. 
 
 For more than an hour she sat by her window looking 
 out upon the moonlight which flooded the lawn, and the 
 dense black shadows of the trees beyond. 
 
 The stillness gradually hushed her sobs into a sad calm, 
 and, without other light than that which came from the 
 moon, she crept into her bed, and lay there, as if buried in 
 a snow-drift, cold and shivering from exhausting emotions 
 and exposure to the night air. 
 
 She could not sleep, but lay thinking of the man who 
 had been driven from the house that night, wondering 
 where he was, and when, upon the earth, she would meet 
 him. 
 
 All at once she started up and uttered a faint cry. Some 
 one had passed swiftly through her door, and was approach- 
 ing the bed. She saw the face, as it crossed the window, 
 and sank to the pillow again. 
 
 " Mamma Kachael, is it you? " she gasped. 
 
 Lady Hope sat down on the edge of the bed. She 
 seemed deathly cold ; but there was a far-off look in her 
 eyes, as the moonlight fell upon them, which seemed 
 unnatural to the girl. 
 
 r* Clara put back the bed-clothes and reached out her 
 arms ; for Lady Hope was in her night-dress, and her feet 
 were uncovered. 
 
 " Come into bed, mamma Eachael ; you shiver so." 
 
 Lady Hope took no heed, but arose slowly from the
 
 160 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 bed, and, going to a dressing-table, poured some water 
 from a ewer that stood there, and began to wash her 
 hands. 
 
 Clara could see her in the moonlight, and sat up in the 
 bed, afraid and wondering. 
 
 "Mamma, mamma Rachael," she faltered, terrified by 
 the sound of her voice, "why are you staying out in the 
 cold like that ? " 
 
 Lady Hope shook the drops from her fingers, and 
 leaving the table, began to pace the floor. At last Clara 
 sprang from the bed and took hold of her. 
 
 Every nerve in the woman's body seemed to quiver 
 under that touch ; she uttered a shrill cry, and clung to the 
 girl to save herself from falling. 
 
 "Come to the bed with me, mamma. Your hand is 
 cold ; it touches mine like snow. That is right ; put your 
 arms around me. Poor, poor mamma ! how your heart 
 struggles ! There, there ; the chill is going off. We will 
 get each other warm ; for we love each other, you and I, 
 mamma Eachael; nothing on this earth can change 
 that ! " 
 
 Rachael allowed herself to be taken to the bed ; but she 
 trembled violently. 
 
 " You are troubled about Hepworth ; but I have prom- 
 ised I do promise. Papa, nor all the world to help him, 
 could change me. Besides, there is another thing ; we 
 both love him ; that would make us cling together, if no- 
 thing else," said Clara. 
 
 "Ah, there it is there it is! Hepworth is gone, and 
 neither you nor I must ever see him again ! " answe 
 Rachael. 
 
 " But we will ! He loves us. I will marry him some 
 day, if I live." 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! That can never be ! Never ! never ! "
 
 THE STORMY NIGHT. 161 
 
 Rachael was fearfully agitated. Clara tore her form from 
 those clinging arras. 
 
 "What! you? you turned against us you!" she 
 exclaimed, pushing Rachael back from her pillow, and 
 sitting up in the moonlight. "Has my father driven us all 
 crazy ? " 
 
 " Hush, child, hush ! I have been thinking of that. It 
 seems to me that I am mad already. Be kind; oh, be 
 kind ! Do not urge me on. To-night I have had such 
 thoughts ! " 
 
 The girl was frightened ; for Rachael was bending over, 
 and the fire of her great black eyes seemed hot as it was 
 terrible. 
 
 " Great Heavens ! " she cried, " what has my father done 
 to you ? " 
 
 Eachael had exhausted herself. She lay down, panting 
 for breath ; her lips were apart ; the edges of her teeth 
 were visible; she did not answer. 
 
 Clara forgot her own cause of offence, and laid her hand 
 over those wide-open, burning eyes. 
 
 " Pjoor mamma Rachael ! now try and sleep. I never 
 saw you so nervous before. Did you know it ? you were 
 walking in your sleep." 
 
 The cool touch of that hand soothed the woman. Clara 
 felt the eyelids close under her palm ; but a heavy pulse 
 was beating in the temples, which resisted all her gentle 
 mesmerism for a long time ; but, after a while, the worn 
 frame seemed to rest, and Clara sank down in weary 
 sleepiness by her side. 
 
 ; When she awoke again Lady Hope was gone. It was 
 the dark hour of the morning ; the moon had disappeared 
 from the heavens ; the shadows, in diffusing themselves, 
 spread out into general Darkness. 
 
 " Ah, I have had a weary dream," she murmured ; " I
 
 162 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 have heard of such things, but never had anything dark 
 upon my sleep before. How real it was ! My father home, 
 Hepworth gone, my mother in this bed, trembling, moan- 
 ing, and, worst of all, against me and him. Ah, it was a 
 terrible dream ! " 
 
 She turned upon her pillow, full of sleepy thankfulness, 
 and the next instant had deluded herself into a tranquil 
 sleep. 
 
 A rapid fall of hoofs upon ^ie avenue shook the still- 
 ness. Nearer and nearer they came; then a clang of the 
 great bronze knocker at the principal entrance awoke her 
 thoroughly. 
 
 The girl listened; her dream was fast taking shape, and 
 she knew that it was a reality. Had this untimely arrival 
 anything to do with it ? A knock at her chamber-door, 
 and her father's voice answered the question. 
 
 She was to get up, and prepare for a journey at once ; 
 her maid was packing already. 
 
 What was it ? What had happened ? Lord Hope forgot 
 that he had not told her. The old Countess of Carset 
 had sent for her. She must prepare to start at once for 
 Hough ton. 
 
 Clara sprang up, ready to offer battle to the old countess 
 a second time in behalf of her stepmother. 
 
 While she was being dressed, Lord Hope stood in the 
 corridor without, reading the delicate, upright characters in 
 which the old countess clothed her thoughts. 
 
 " MY LOKD : Circumstances have happened of late 
 which convince me that I have been hasty and unjust t<# * 
 your wife, and have taken offense too readily from the inde- 
 pendence exhibited by your child, my grand-daughter. It 
 is rny desire to atone for this, as the men and women of 
 our house have ever atoned for injustice. The infirmities
 
 THE STORMY NIGHT. 163 
 
 of old age, and more than ordinary ill-health forbid me to 
 visit Oakhurst, which might, perhaps, be properly ex- 
 pected of one who admits herself to have been in the 
 wrong; but, perhaps you and Lady Hope will permit 
 Lady Clara to come to me here a few weeks, in which 
 time, I trust, she will learn to know and lof her grand- 
 mother. 
 
 "Presuming upon your generosity, I have sent my 
 steward and my own maid, that she may have proper pro- 
 tection on her journey. After my grand-daughter has 
 been at Houghton long enough to feel that it is to be her 
 home in the future, I shall expect the pleasure of a visit 
 from you and Lady Hope. 
 
 " LOUISA, Countess of Carset." 
 
 Never, since the day in which he brought the first Lady 
 Hope home, a bride, had such intense satisfaction filled the 
 earl's heart as this letter brought him. 
 
 Involved, as he was, with pecuniary difficulties, harassed 
 about his daughter, humiliated by the silent rejection by 
 which the nobility in the neighborhood had repudiated his 
 wife for so many years, this concession so nobly made by 
 the old countess, was an opening of good fortune which 
 promised a solution of all these difficulties. It had, in 
 truth, lifted a heavy burden from his life. 
 
 With the letter in his hand Lord Hope went to his wife's 
 dressing-room, where he found her, hollow-eyed, and so 
 nervous that a faint cry broke from her as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 She felt the loss of her brother terribly, notwithstand- 
 ing what seemed to be a ready concession to the harsh 
 treatment he received, and her sleep, as we know, had been 
 restless and broken in the night. 
 
 She was cold and shivering, though the weather was 
 10
 
 164 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 warm, and had wrapped a shawl, full of richly - tinted 
 colors, over her morning-dress, and sat cowering under it 
 like some newly-caught animal. 
 
 Lord Hope felt that his inhospitable expulsion of her 
 brother, and the cruel conversation that had followed it, 
 was the caum of this nervous depression, and his heart 
 smote him. vVith the letter open in his hand he went up 
 to her chair, and bending over it, kissed Rachael on the 
 forehead. 
 
 A smile broke over those gloomy features; the heavy 
 eyes lighted up ; she lifted her face to his. 
 
 " Oh, you do love me you do love me ! " 
 
 " My poor Rachael ! how can you permit words that 
 sprang out of the gloomy memories which Hepworth 
 brought to trouble you so ? Come, smile again, for I have 
 good news for you for us all." 
 
 " Good news ! Is Hepworth coming back ? " 
 
 " Forget Hepworth just now, and read that." 
 
 Lady Hope took the letter and read it through. When 
 she gave it back, her face was radiant. 
 
 "At last at last!" she exclaimed. " Oh, Norton, this 
 will lift me to my proper place by your side. Now, now I 
 will make you proud of me ! These patricians shall learn, 
 that all great gifts do not spring from birth that genius 
 has a nobility which can match that given by kings." 
 
 Rachael started up in her excitement, flung the shawl 
 away, and stood a priestess where she had just cowered 
 like a wounded animal. 
 
 "Now we shall be all the world to each other, and walk 
 through this proud life of yours, fairly mated. Great 
 Heavens! after a night like the last, who could have 
 expected such a morning? But Clara, you will let her 
 go?" 
 
 " She is preparing to go now."
 
 THE STORMY NIGHT. 165 
 
 " My girl my bright, beautiful girl ! She has always 
 been the angel in my path. But for her, this might never 
 have come. But we cannot give her up not entirely. 
 You will not consent to that?" 
 
 " If we do, it will be only for a time, Kachael. The 
 countess is very old." 
 
 " Yes, it will not be for long, and we can trust Clara. I 
 will go to her now. She will need my help, and every 
 minute she stays under this roof is a grain of gold which I 
 must not lose. Oh ! Norton, this is glorious news that you 
 have brought me ! What can have wrought this change in 
 the old countess ? I am going to Clara now." 
 
 As Lady Hope opened the door, Clara stood upon the 
 threshold, ready for her journey. She knew that this 
 letter was the first that her father had received from Lady 
 Carset for years, and was curious to know its meaning. 
 She could not remember when Lady Carset's name had 
 been spoken in that house without bitterness, and was 
 astonished to hear the cheerful animation with which it was 
 spoken now. 
 
 "Am I really to go, papa? Do you wish it? Is mamma 
 Bachael willing ? Let me read the letter, please." 
 
 Lord Hope gave her the letter, and replied as she waa 
 reading it : 
 
 " Yes, my child, it is but right. The old lady is your 
 nearest female relative." 
 
 Here Clara reached out her hand to Lady Hope, but kept 
 her eyes on the letter, reading and listening at the same 
 time. 
 
 "And you think it best, mamma? " inquired Clara, fold- 
 ing the letter. "What a delicate, stately hand the old 
 lady wpftes ! You don't object ? " 
 
 "Object,-Clara ! No, no. I long to part with you, for 
 the first time in my life."
 
 166 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " In some things," said Lord Hope, " the old lady has 
 been cruelly dealt by. Say this from me, Clara. The con- 
 cessions must qot rest all on one side." 
 
 " Of course, papa ; I will tell her, if you desire it. But 
 why did she not ask you and mamma at once? It is awful 
 lonesome going-to that grim old castle by myself." 
 
 "It is only for a few weeks," answered Kachael, hastily. 
 "But, dear child, you must not let this old lady stand 
 between you and us. She may have more to give, but no 
 one on earth can ever love you like us." 
 
 "Don't I know it? Is that the carriage? Dear me, 
 how things are rushed forward this morning ! Am I all 
 right, mamma Rachael? Kiss me once more. What! 
 tears in your eyes ? I won't go a step if you don't stop 
 crying ! What do I care for Lady Carset, a cross old thing, 
 and old as the hills ! " 
 
 " Clara, I hear the carriage." 
 
 " So do I, papa; but what's the use of hurrying? " 
 
 "I wish your grandmother to know that I hold no 
 enmity by my promptness in sending you." 
 
 "Oh, is that it? Well, good-bye, mamma Rachael. 
 One more kiss again again! Now, good-bye in ear- 
 nest." 
 
 Lady Hope left the room to hide her tears. Clara fol- 
 lowed her father to the carriage. 
 
 " Poor, poor mamma ! How pale and ill she was last 
 night ! Oh, papa, do kiss her good-bye for me just once 
 again, when you go back." 
 
 Lord Hope turned a smiling look upon the girl, and she 
 added, half in excuse : 
 
 " It breaks my heart to leave her so" 
 
 Lord Hope did not answer, but folded a cloak around his 
 daughter, helped her into the carriage, and took a seat him- 
 self.
 
 AFTEK THE FAILURE. 
 
 Margaret was already seated by the coachman. 
 
 " I understand well enough that I am not to travel with 
 my young lady on her journey," she said ; "but, so far as 
 her way lies toward London, I am going. My sister wants 
 me there, and I do just as lief be in a tomb as stay at Oak- 
 hurst when Lady Clara is away. So, as she is willing, I 
 shall just leave her at the junction, and go up to London. 
 That I can do in spite of the crabbed old thing at Hough- 
 ton, who wants her at first all to herself." 
 
 This was said in confidence to the coachman, who mutter- 
 ed something under his breath about feeling uncommonly 
 lonesome when Mistress Margaret was away from Oakhurst. 
 
 Directly after this the carriage drew up at the station 
 where a grim-looking woman of fifty stood ready to receive 
 the young lady from the hands of her father. 
 
 It was not often that Lord Hope was known to exhibit 
 any violent emotion ; but Clara felt that he gave way a 
 little when she threw her arms around his neck in parting 
 and Badger, after he opened the gate to let his master 
 pass through, observed to Jules that something out of the 
 common must be going on up yonder, for all night people 
 had been going in and out like ghosts, and the master seem- 
 ed like another man. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AFTER THE FAILURE. 
 
 WHEN Caroline reached home, after that involuntary 
 retreat from the theatre, she went to her own room with 
 Eliza, and falling upon the bed, lay perfectly still, so
 
 168 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 exhausted and crushed, that she scarcely breathed. She 
 had disgraced herself, and she had seen him. 
 
 Alas, alas ! he had witnessed her defeat, her bitter humil- 
 iation ! 
 
 Why had she not told him before, that her mother was 
 an actress, a singer, of whose reputation he had heard ; 
 that her own destiny must be guided by this woman, and 
 could hardly have a higher aim than she had already 
 reached. He would think that she had deceived him, and 
 -she had, but with no premeditation. She had honestly 
 intended to tell him everything, but the suddenness of their 
 departure from Italy had rendered all explanation impossi- 
 ble. What could she do but hide herself forever from him 
 and the whole world? She forgot the bursts of applause 
 that had followed the first effort of her voice, and sank 
 everything together in one sweep of bitter shame. 
 
 " My darling ! my poor darling ! " 
 
 It was Brown who had crept into her room, crest-fallen 
 and drooping, like a man stunned by some heavy blow. 
 Caroline started up. 
 
 " Oh ! my friend ! You are sorry for me, yet I have 
 disappointed you so; my heart aches ! my heart aches! but 
 what can I do ? " 
 
 " Never mind," answered the tender-hearted man. " It 
 was the fright, stage fright a terrible thing ; but it seldom 
 comes twice. Why, that woman, your mother I mean, broke 
 down over and over again, but the parts were so small, no 
 one observed it enough to clap or hiss, while you sang like 
 an angel, up to th&.very minute you fainted. I never saw 
 anything like it." 
 
 Caroline sank back to her pillow, moaning. She was still 
 in her theatrical costume, and its glitter sickened her. 
 
 " Don't take on so," persisted the kind musician. " It 
 was not a failure. No one will consider it so. On the con-
 
 AFTER THE FAILURE. 169 
 
 trary, it can be made to tell, and your next appearance will 
 be an ovation." 
 
 Caroline started to her elbow again. 
 
 "My next appearance! and you say that! You! you! 
 Oh ! Mr. Brown, I did not think you would turn against 
 me!" 
 
 " Turn against you, my child ? " Tears trembled in the 
 man's voice, and the words quivered on his lips as he added: 
 "My poor darling. Do you not know that old Brown would 
 die for you ? " 
 
 " Then keep me from the stage ; snatch me from a life 
 that I loathe. I tell you, all this is against my nature. I 
 have no genius to carry me forward, no ambition, no hopfe. 
 Oh ! that is gone, quite." 
 
 " But it is an honorable- profession," faltered Brown, in 
 his distress. " Think how many noble geniuses have found 
 immortality on the stage." 
 
 " I know it, I know it well ; but they were led that way, 
 heart and soul, while I have no wish for fame or anything 
 that it could bring. What does a woman want with im- 'if 
 mortality above all. a poor young girl like me, whose very 
 heart trembles in her bosom, when a crowd of strange eyes 
 are turned upon her, as they were on me to-night?" 
 
 " But you will soon get over that." 
 
 "No. I never shall. This one night has broken -up my 
 life, and well nigh killed me. Let what may come, I will 
 Starve rather than tread that stage again." 
 
 "Hush! dear, hush! This passion will make you 
 worse." 
 
 " But I mean it, Eliza, and I say it here and now, when 
 you and Mr. Brown, the only friends I have on earth, are 
 standing by. Think for me, Eliza, and you also, my kind, ' 
 kind guardian ! " 
 
 "Ah, if I had the power," said Brown, answering Eliza's
 
 170 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 appealing look with a mournful shake of the head ; " but the 
 madame will never give her up." 
 
 "She must," said Caroline, kindling with desperate 
 opposition : " I am not her slave. God does not give up the 
 soul and conscience of a child to her mother." 
 
 " Especially one who never did a thing for her child, but 
 left her for others to bring up," broke in Eliza, uttering a 
 bitter truth, in her angry pity for the girl. " Mr. Brown, 
 all that I have got to say is this : you and I must stand by 
 this young cretur, let her do what she will. She is more 
 our child than hers. I stand by that. If she don't want 
 to put on this splendiferous dress again, why it shall not 
 come within a rod of her. If her heart is set against sing- 
 ing on the stage, we are not the people to see her dragged 
 there against her will. You stand by me, I'll stand by you, 
 and we'll roll ourselves like a rock in that woman's way, if 
 she attempts to force our child into the theatre again." 
 
 "But how can we oppose her? She has the power. 
 We have not, at this moment, five pounds among us." 
 
 Eliza's face fell as if it had been suddenly unlocked. 
 
 "No more we have, and in a strange country, too," she 
 said, dolefully. 
 
 Here Caroline joined in. 
 
 " But I can teach. If I please all those people, surely I 
 can teach." 
 
 " Sure enough ! " said Eliza, brightening a little. " What 
 do you say to that, Mr. Brown ? " 
 
 " We 'must take time. Perhaps there will be no cause for 
 trouble. When it comes in earnest, you shall not fight 
 alone, Eliza. So comfort yourself, my child. The old man 
 would rather beg for bread on the highway than sjge you 
 forced to anything that is so distasteful. Now try and 
 sleep." 
 
 Brown bent down and smoothed tho girl's hair with his
 
 AFTER THE FAILURE. 171 
 
 hand. Then he turned from her with tears in his eyes, and 
 crept out of the room. 
 
 Caroline followed him with wistful eyes until the door 
 closed. Then she turned to Eliza. 
 
 " Oh ! Eliza, do this one thing for me, if you can. Let, 
 let no one come in to-night. I can endure no more." 
 
 " They'll have to knock me down and trample on me if 
 they do, that is all," answered the handmaiden. tl My gra- 
 cious! How I wish we were in our own little house again 
 up in Sing-Sing." 
 
 " Oh ! if we were ! " sighed the girl. {< Why did we ever 
 leave it ? " 
 
 "Because we were a couple of born fools, that's why!" 
 answered the maid. "Born fools! and I the biggest, the 
 oldest, the most outrageous fool of all ! Wasn't we inde- 
 pendent ? Couldn't you have took scholars, and I wash- 
 ing by the dozen? Hadn't we the sweetest little garden 
 in that whole town ? such cabbages, such onions, and let- 
 tuce headed like cabbage, and tender as as flowers! 
 Whenever I get sick over these French dishes, I think of 
 that garden, and the cow, and the shoat that knew me 
 when I came to the pen with corn in my apron, and gave a 
 little grunt, as if I'd been his sister. Then my heart turns 
 back to the old home, like a sunflower, and I say to myself, 
 ' You perposterous old maid, you ! what did you let that poor 
 young thing come from under that honest roof for ? You 
 was old enough to know better, if she wasn't ; but you had 
 an idea of seeing the world, of dressing up and being a 
 lady's maid, of hearing whole crowds of young men stamp 
 and clap and whistle over that innocent young cretur. You 
 didn't think that she might faint dead away, and and be 
 brought home heart-broken. Home, indeed ! as if this box 
 of gilding could be a home to any American woman ! It'c 
 perposterous I "
 
 172 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Here Eliza broke off with a half-uttered word on her lips, 
 for her speech had brought the old home back so vividly to 
 the heart-sick girl that she was sobbing upon her pillow like 
 a child. 
 
 A little bustle down stairs, a knock at the door, and, as 
 Eliza ran forward, Olympia pushed it open and came in. 
 
 She saw Caroline prostrate on the bed, with that deli- 
 cate robe wrapped around and crushed under her, and the 
 lace shawl falling from the pillow to the carpet, like a trail 
 of frost. 
 
 The sight urged her into one of those quick passions that 
 sometimes threw her whole -household into consternation. 
 
 " Heavens ! what extravagance ! " she cried. " Does the 
 creature know that lace like that is worth its weight in 
 diamonds? A silk robe, too, which could not be purchased 
 out of Paris, tumbled up in a wad, and one mass of wrin- 
 kles ! 1 see! I see! the revenues of a duke would not 
 meet such extravagance ! Get up ! Get up, I say ! and 
 if you must make a goose of yourself, do it at less cost ! " 
 
 "Hush, madam! she's sick ! She's broken-hearted!" 
 retorted Eliza, turning fiercely red and planting herself 
 before the shrinking girl. 
 
 " Well, she must break her heart in something less costly 
 than a French dress worth thirty pounds, and point lace 
 that cannot be got at any price! Just get up, my young 
 lad}', and do your crying in less expensive costume ! The 
 proper dress for tragedy is white muslin, but just now a 
 night-gown will do." 
 
 Caroline arose without a word, and began to undress her- 
 self. She no longer shrank or trembled, for the indignant 
 blood rushed to the surface, and pride gave her strength. 
 Eliza took the robe as she cast it off, and folded it with an 
 emphatic sweep of her hand. 
 
 "A pretty mess you have made of "it," said Olympia,
 
 AFTER THE FAILURE. 173 
 
 tossing the lace aside with her foot, and tearing it on the 
 buckle of her shoe, " with your perverse obstinacy broken 
 up the most splendid debut I ever saw on any stage, and 
 making yourself and your failure the town's talk ! -if the 
 critics had not, been my friends, the whole thing would have 
 been utter ruination ; and here yon are, with cheeks like 
 flame, looking as haughty as a duchess." 
 
 " I am not haughty or perverse," said Caroline, wiping 
 the hot tears from her eyes, " but weary and ill." 
 
 " 111 ! with that color ? " sneered Otympia. 
 
 "It is fever," Eliza broke in. "Ten minutes ago she 
 was white as the pillow. You are making her worse and 
 worse, I can tell you that." 
 
 " And I can tell you that impudent tongue will lose you 
 a good place within the next ten minutes, if it is not bridled 
 and well curbed. I stand no nonsense from servants. 
 Understand that ! " 
 
 Caroline cast an imploring glance on her maid, who 
 dashed both hands down upon the dress she was folding, 
 and ground her teeth in silent rage, as Olj'mpia finished 
 the threat with a little snap of her slender fingers. 
 
 " What was the matter with you ? I have had no 
 chance to ask, with j-our countesses and duchesses swarm- 
 ing about, as if you had some acquaintances that your own 
 mother could not reach ! What came over you ? I will 
 know!" 
 
 " I was faint and frightened," said Caroline, in a low 
 voice. " The whole thing broke me down." 
 
 " But there was something else. I will know it! " 
 
 Caroline was silent. 
 
 " Will you speak, miss? " 
 
 " I have nothing more to say. You could see how ill I 
 was." 
 
 " But not the cause ; it is that I wish to understand."
 
 174 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Caroline sat down on the side of her bed and remained 
 silent, with her eyes on the floor. She had no answer to 
 give. 
 
 " Will you tell the truth, or must I search it out ? I was 
 watching you ; I saw your eyes and the man whose glance 
 struck you down." 
 
 Caroline gave a start, and covered her face with both 
 hands. 
 
 " What have you in common with young Lord Hilton ? " 
 
 The hands dropped from that burning face, and two great, 
 dilating eyes, in which the tears stood, were turned on the 
 angry woman. 
 
 " Young Lord Hilton ! I do not know him." 
 
 The words came faintly from the girl's lips she was be- 
 wildered. 
 
 " Why did he drop his glass and bend over the box with 
 that look in his face, then ? Why did you start and trample 
 back on your train ? Why did you give him that piteous 
 glance just as your eyes closed ? The audience might not 
 have seen it, but I did, I did." 
 
 " I I do not understand," faltered the girl. 
 
 " Do not understand, miss ! " 
 
 "How should I, not knowing the person you speak of? " 
 
 " Don't lie to me, girl ! I am an old bird, and have had 
 my own flights too often not to understand a look when I 
 see it. You have met that man before I don't know where 
 or how, but you have." 
 
 "You speak of a person I never saw or heard of," 
 answered the girl, trembling with inward doubt ; " how can 
 I tell you anything about him ? " 
 
 Olympia almost believed her, and, for once, her acute 
 penetration was baffled; but a doubt remained, and she 
 turned to Eliza.
 
 AFTER THE FAILURE. 175 
 
 "If you know anything about this, tell me now; it will 
 be better for her and for you." 
 
 " I haven't anything to tell, Mrs. Olympia ; not a 
 thing!" 
 
 " Was any one admitted to the house near Florence ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, there was." 
 
 " Well, a young gentleman ? " 
 
 " Yes ; one young un, and another, older." 
 
 " Who were they ? " 
 
 " The man who taught her how to speak Italian and the 
 music fellow." 
 
 " Only those two ? " 
 
 " Not another soul came or went while we stayed in that 
 house." 
 
 "And she conversed with no one on the way?" 
 
 " Not a soul." 
 
 Olympia turned to go out. She was not convinced ; 
 having no truth in herself she found no power of faith in 
 others ; but, for the time, the blunt honesty of the servant 
 and proud sincerity of the girl silenced her, and she went 
 out, muttering: 
 
 " I shall get at the bottom of it yet." 
 
 Then Caroline turned to Eliza : 
 
 " Can it be ? I saw no other." 
 
 " I haven't a doubt of it," said Eliza. " I always mis- 
 trusted him for an Englishman."
 
 176 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 LORD HILTOX TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. 
 
 SHE had fallen ill. The prima donna of a single hour 
 was lying in Olympia's bijou of a house, struggling with a 
 nervous fever. The whole town had been made aware of the 
 mournful fact; for the manager had spread the news broad- 
 cast through the journals, thus displacing disappointment 
 with such overwhelming sympathy as the distress of beauty 
 and genius is sure to excite. For more than a week, now, 
 the prevailing topic had been this young girl ; first the. 
 promise of a brilliant debut, then the momentary triumph 
 and sudden breakdown ; now came the news of her illness, 
 true, in so much that she was seriously ill, but exaggerated 
 into a romance which gave her out as dying with a shock of 
 a too sensitive nature. 
 
 Olympia sang gloriously to crowded houses. In the ro- 
 mance woven around this young girl her parentage had been 
 hinted at, and the practiced woman of the stage had man- 
 aged to turn the public rumor into popularity for herself. 
 
 She had taken up the opera where Caroline had sunk 
 down, and carried it triumphantly forward, filling the world 
 with admiration of herself and sympathy for the girl. 
 
 On the morning when Caroline's illness was made public, 
 some young men were seated in the window of a club-house, 
 and one of them threw down the Times with an impatient 
 movement. 
 
 " So we are not to have this new singer again to-morrow 
 night or the next," he said. " Here is Olympia's name in 
 the bills, while the other is ill with something on the brain 
 or nerves." 
 
 " All a sham, to enhance the public interest, I dare say,"
 
 ^tr^rw <fs-+**mpiA 
 
 THE SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. 177 
 
 answered another, taking up the journal. " There is noth- 
 ing these musical people will not do for popularity. But it 
 really was not needed here ; the girl has beauty enough to 
 carry her forward, even without her glorious voice. For my 
 part, I am all in a fever to see her again." 
 
 A young man sat in this circle, apparently occupied hy 
 the panorama drifting through the streets. As the con- 
 versation went on, the color came and went in his face, and 
 his eyes began to burn ; but he said nothing, while the 
 others went on : 
 
 "Who is the girl? what is her real name? Some say 
 she is an American ; others, that she is Olympia' s own 
 daughter, to whom all names are alike ; but, then, where 
 was the woman Olympia born? Now and then a word 
 drops from the pretty lips which is purely American ; but 
 then she has been all over the world, and has gathered 
 something from all nations, so that one can never make a 
 true guess about her." 
 
 " Does this girl look like her ? " inquired one of the 
 young men, who had not been at the opera last night. 
 
 " No, not exactly," was the answer. " She is taller, 
 more queenly, in fact ; quite a different style. This new 
 girl is superb." 
 
 "While Olympia is simply bewildering, changeable as 
 the sky, erratic as a comet. We all understand Olympia." 
 
 The young man, who had kept silent till now, joined in 
 the conversation, but his voice was constrained, and a little 
 husky. 
 
 " Who is this woman, Olympia?" 
 
 The other young men laughed at the question. 
 
 "Who is Olympia? Why, the most bewitching, un- 
 principled, delightful bit of wickedness that has been 
 thrown on the world for years. Don't tell us that you are 
 to learn anything of Olympia at this time."
 
 178 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " I have heard of her, and seen her too, but only as a 
 singer. What I ask is about her life, her principles, her 
 character as a woman." 
 
 "And you ask that of us, my dear fellow? What 
 nonsense ! Have we not said that she is an actress ? " 
 
 " Well, what then ? An actress may be well-principled, 
 honest, honorable, and modest, too, as any woman living. 
 I asked if this woman, Olympia, the patroness, mother, or 
 what you will, of this new singer, is one of these ? " 
 
 " Don't ask any of us to endorse or condemn Olympia. 
 We know that she gives the most delicious little suppers in. 
 the world, sings like a siren, smiles like an angel, and gets 
 more and more fascinating as she grows older, as fruit 
 ripens with age. No one ever thinks of asking her how 
 old she is, or where she was born. It is enough that her 
 beauty is in its summer, her voice perfect, and that she, 
 who perhaps reigned over our fathers, holds us as her slaves. 
 As for honor, dignity, principle, and all that, my dear 
 fellow, who ever expects such things in a woman like our 
 Olympia ? 
 
 " Yet she has had the training of this new singer." 
 
 " Training ? Why it is said that the girl is really her 
 own daughter." 
 
 " I heard you say as much," answered the young man, 
 drily. 
 
 Then another voice broke in. 
 
 " You seem so much interested in these people, Hilton, 
 why not go and see for yourself? I will introduce you." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 "To-night. The Olympia has a little supper after the 
 opera." 
 
 " But I thought the young lady was ill." 
 
 " Oh ! that will make no difference. Olympia is a 
 woman to enjoy herself, if Death sat next door. She will
 
 THE SUPPER WITH OLTMPIA. 179 
 
 be certain to have her little supper. Will you go ? Is it 
 an engagement ? If so, I will send her a note." 
 
 " Yes, I will go." 
 
 That night Olympia held high festival at her pretty 
 house, which overlooked one of the loveliest parks in 
 London. Among her guests was young Lord Hilton, the 
 grandson of one of the proudest old earls in the kingdom. 
 
 Olympia was delighted at the presence of this man, who 
 had never before been lured into her circle. 
 
 She had another reason for her satisfaction. The look 
 which had disturbed her still preyed on her mind. She 
 had a keen desire to learn how far it had relation to the 
 young girl who lay ill upstairs. In order, if possible, to 
 inform herself, she selected the young man to sit next her 
 at table, and artfully led the conversation to the night of 
 Caroline's failure. 
 
 " You were present," she said, " that night. Was ever 
 success more perfect, or failure more complete? It drove 
 me wild ! " 
 
 " I was present," said Hilton, very quietly, for he felt 
 her eyes upon him with that slow, sidelong glance that has 
 so much cunning in it, and this put him on his guard. 
 
 " She, was coming out so magnificently," said Olympia, 
 still vigilant, but with the white lids drooping over her 
 eyes, " when, all of a sudden, her voice broke, and she fell. 
 It must have been something in the audience." 
 
 "Perhaps," said the young man; "but what? I was 
 looking at her all the time, and saw nothing. In fact, the 
 house was very still. I have seldom seen a crowd so 
 breathless." 
 
 Olympia turned one long glance on that face, and saw it 
 was immovable in all the strong, but finely-cut features. 
 Her suspicioas grew weaker now, and she gave her atten- 
 tion more generally to the guests, who were becoming a 
 11.
 
 180 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 little impatient of the exclusive attention paid to Lord 
 Hilton ; but the craft of this woman was as deep as her 
 feelings were superficial. She could not quite throw off 
 the idea that, in some way, this very person had been the 
 cause of her defeat, and that his visit to her house that 
 night would end in some effort to obtain an interview with 
 the young creature who lay so ill upstairs. 
 
 But she was mistaken. Hilton asked no questions, made 
 no effort to draw her out, but drifted into the general 
 conversation pleasantly enough, until the supper was near 
 its close, and the wines had begun to do their work. 
 
 Then the entertainment swept into an orgie ; tongues 
 were loosened, eyes brightened and swam in moisture. 
 
 Snatches of bacchanalian songs broke from the laughing 
 lips of Olympia. 
 
 She had been in a little awe of her new guest ; but now 
 her real nature broke out. Her wit sparkled like the cham- 
 pagne with which her red lips were continually moist; her 
 eyes shone under the droop of those long white lids. Sho 
 grew confidential with the young noble, and was easily led 
 by f he cool, versatile man, into conversation that she would 
 have stubbornly avoided earlier in the evening. In one of 
 her bold snatches of song she rounded off with a rollicking 
 impromptu, which carried all the richness and force of 
 her voice with it. This threw the whole company into a 
 tumult of applause, but Hilton sat quietly and looked 
 on, with a smile of supreme contempt quivering about his 
 lips. 
 
 " Ha," said Olympia, filling his glass with her own hands, 
 'fyou neither drink nor care for my singing. It is only the 
 youth and beauty of my daughter that can move Lord 
 Hilton." 
 
 Her daughter ! The face of the young man turned white, 
 and his lips closed sharply. He looked at the woman by
 
 THE SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. 181 
 
 his side, the flushed cheeks, the soft, slumbrous eyes, with 
 absolute repulsion. He hated the very thought that the 
 young creature he had found, like a bird, in that sweet 
 Italian home, could belong in anything to a woman like 
 that. Still, she had, in her reckless inadvertency, called 
 her daughter, and though the very idea drove the blood to 
 his heart, it was only by a cold pallor that the shock this 
 one word had given to him was visible. 
 
 "Your daughter is very beautiful," he said, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Did I call Caroline my daughter? Oh, well, it is no 
 matter the truth will out sometime, though I would rather 
 wait till her success is assured. When she becomes famous, 
 I shall glory in claiming her; but let me warn you, it is a 
 sceret as yet. You will understand. One does not care to 
 own a girl as tall as that while the gloss is on one's hair. 
 Nothing but the most wonderful success will .induce me to 
 acknowledge her before the world." 
 
 " But if she is your child " 
 
 " I have said that she is my child ; but it is a secret, and 
 I did not mean to talk about it. Tell me, now, did you 
 discover no likeness?" 
 
 "I did not observe." 
 
 " Still, they think her so beautiful." 
 
 Lord Hilton made no answer. The conversation had be- 
 come irksome to him ; but some person at the table took the 
 last word from Olympia's lips and repeated it aloud. 
 
 " Beautiful ! You must be speaking of our new prima 
 donna. In my opinion she is perfect; but you, Lord 
 Hilton, have only seen her from the stage can form no 
 idea of her loveliness, or of her voice either. There was 
 nothing, the other night, that could compare with her sing- 
 ing at our little supper here. Besides, her beauty, to be
 
 182 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 appreciated, must be seen close. There is not a fault in her 
 face or form, I can assure you." 
 
 Lord Hilton's face flushed angrily, then a slow white- 
 ness crept over it again, and he bent his head, unable to 
 speak. The task he had imposed on himself had become 
 terribly painful. 
 
 Olympia was not particularly pleased with this high 
 praise of another, though all her ambitious hopes lay in 
 the success of the person on whom these encomiums were 
 lavished. She began to shake up the sparkles in her wine 
 by swaying the glass to and fro with her hand, and a sullen 
 frown crept over her face. 
 
 " She is obstinate as a mule," she muttered ; " tall and 
 proud as Lucifer not at all like me. But they will rave 
 about her beauty, just as if she were more likely to live 
 than to die." 
 
 "What did you say?" cried Lord Hilton, sharply; "die! 
 die ! Is there any danger ? Is she so ill ? " 
 
 Olympia lifted her sleepy eyelids and flashed a suspicious 
 glance at him. 
 
 "Ah ! " she exclaimed ; " are you there ! I thought so." 
 
 "You are not answering me," was the cold reply. 
 
 "You asked if there existed any danger, and I answer, 
 yes. Did you think we were practicing stage effects in the 
 journals ? My poor Caroline is ill very ill." 
 
 "And what made her ill ? " 
 
 " What made her break down, after such glorious prom- 
 ise ? Why, after she sang before my friends here, as fresh 
 as a lark, and drove them all so wild that 1, Olympia, 
 was almost overlooked? There never were such expecta- 
 tions; but see how it ended a total failure, and brain 
 fever." 
 
 " Did you say brain fever ? " 
 
 The young man scarcely spoke above a breath.
 
 THE SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. 183 
 
 "Yes, it is on the brain, or the nerves, I am not quite sure 
 which ; but the doctors look terribly grave when I ask them 
 about her, and speak as if she would die." 
 
 "Would to God she might die!" exclaimed the young 
 man, trembling from head to foot with a burst of agitation, 
 that would not be suppressed longer. 
 
 "What What?" exclaimed Olympia, starting back in 
 affright. The glass fell from her hold, and a rivulet of 
 amber-hued wine flashed along the snow of the table-cloth 
 while she sat gazing upon the young lord. 
 
 " Excuse me ; I was thinking of something else," he 
 said, with a strong effort of self-control. " May I presume 
 on your favor, and steal away, now ? The rest will not miss 
 me, I think." 
 
 Olympia nodded her head hastily. The spilled wine was 
 dripping on her dress, so she started up, and Lord Hilton 
 withdrew while she was shaking the drops from its silken 
 folds, and creating general confusion by her laughing out- 
 cries. 
 
 Lord Hilton looked back as he crossed the passage, and 
 shuddered at the picture of riotous luxury that supper-table 
 presented. 
 
 "And she was among them, in a scene like that," he 
 said, as the door closed after him.
 
 184 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE. 
 
 AT the junction of the railroad where Margaret changed 
 cars for London, a young man, who had just arrived by the 
 train, took the seat left vacant, and arranged himself com- 
 fortably for a protracted journey. Lady Clara watched 
 him with some interest, and more than once caught a 
 glance from his fine eyes as they wandered from the pages 
 of his novel and dwelt upon her own bright face. Clara 
 had been left to her own devices while preparing for her 
 journey, and the antique attendant who had been sent to 
 protect her was grievously scandalized by the jaunty little 
 sailor's hat and double - breasted jacket which she had 
 selected for her travelling costume. But the woman had 
 been bred to almost abject subservience, and had no idea of 
 venturing upon spoken criticism or advice. She was 
 greatly troubled, however, about the impression this singu- 
 lar costume might produce on her old mistress, and felt 
 really shocked when she saw the half-puzzled, half-amused 
 expression of their fellow-passenger's face, as his eyes first 
 encountered the future countess. 
 
 By-and-by the old woman fell into deeper consternation, 
 for she began to remember that handsome face, in spite of 
 the brown beard that curved like a bow over the upper lip, 
 and swept down toward his bosom in soft, silken waves that 
 a child would long to bury its little hands in. 
 
 "It is Lord Hilton, the grandson of the old earl," she 
 muttered, in silent consternation ; " and to see her like 
 this, after all the mistress has been planning, is terrible to 
 think of."
 
 ON THE WAY TO HOUQHTON CASTLE. 185 
 
 The young man had been so much occupied with the 
 younger and prettier face that any regard for that of the 
 old servant was impossible ; but after a while his eyes fell 
 on those hard outlines, and he gave a start of recognition, 
 which made the old lady move restlessly in her seat. 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Judson, is it possible that I find you so far 
 from home ! " he exclaimed. " What can possibly have 
 come over the old lady that she is willing to part with you 
 for a journey long or short? " 
 
 " My lady is not so well as we were when you left this 
 neighborhood for foreign parts, my lord. Indeed, I am 
 much afraid you will find her greatly altered. She is now 
 almost entirely confined to her room." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that. Lady Carset is, after all, an 
 aged woman ; but it would be mournful to see her broken 
 down. Let me think. She is quite as old, if not older, 
 than my grandfather, is she not?" 
 
 "There is not a year between them, I have heard my 
 father say," answered Judson, with a prim consciousness 
 of th delicate subject they had trenched upon ; " not that 
 I know of myself." 
 
 " Certainly not. But my grandfather it is some weeks 
 since I heard of him." 
 
 " The earl is quite well, my lord. He was at the castle 
 only last week, and spent a long morning with my lady." 
 
 " Indeed ! " muttered the young man. " That probably 
 accounts for my summons home." 
 
 " She had been uncommonly anxious for a long time, 
 and at last sent for him to come and see her." 
 
 " Very natural. They are old friends." 
 
 " Then, my lord, she sent me on this journey not that I 
 came alone. The steward is on the train. My lady would 
 not permit her grand-daughter to travel with but one 
 attendant."
 
 186 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " Her grand-daughter? " 
 
 "I beg pardon, my lord, but this young lady is Lord 
 Hope's daughter." 
 
 Hilton lifted his hat and met Lady Clara's look of 
 smiling surprise with a courteous bend of the head, but 
 her quick eye caught the sudden glow that swept his face, 
 and wondered at it. She wondered still more when a grave 
 expression followed the blush ; and, instead of making 
 himself agreeable, he opened the novel that lay on the 
 seat, and seemed to be occupied by its pages, though she 
 remarked, with an inward chuckle, that he never turned a, 
 page. 
 
 After awhile the young man laid down his book, wearily, 
 and Clara saw his chest heave slowly as he breathed a long, 
 deep, but unconscious sigh. 
 
 " He is in trouble, like me," was her quick thought. 
 " Perhaps his grandfather is a hard, cruel old man, and 
 drives everything he loves out of doors, without caring how 
 he may feel about it, or perhaps " 
 
 Clara might have gone on conjecturing all sorts of possi- 
 bilities; but that moment the train stopped at a small 
 town, and close by the station she saw an old woman, with 
 a pile of crimson-cheeked peaches and some pears on a 
 table beside her. An exclamation broke from her, and she 
 leaned eagerly forward just as the carriage - door was 
 unlocked. 
 
 " Oh, how splendid ! such peaches ! such pears ! " she 
 exclaimed, feeling in the pocket of her sacque for some 
 loose money, which she usually carried there. " Oh ! Mar- 
 garet " 
 
 Here she turned to the woman next her, and blushed 
 with vexation when she remembered that Margaret was no 
 longer there to take her commands.
 
 ON THE WAYTO HOUGHTON CASTLE. 187 
 
 " Dear me ! I forgot. No matter. Oh, mercy ! what 
 have I done ? " 
 
 She had done nothing but what was most likely to obtain 
 her object, for Lord Hilton had pushed open the door, 
 leaped out, and in a minute or two returned with his hands 
 full of the peaches and pears she had craved so. She was 
 blushing scarlet when he came back and dropped the lus- 
 cious fruit into her lap, as if they had been acquainted fifty 
 years. 
 
 " Oh, you are too kind ! I did not mean I did not 
 expect ; but please eat some yourself. Here is a splendid 
 one. Mrs. Judson, take pears or peaches, just as you like 
 delicious ! " 
 
 The mellow sound of this last word was uttered as her 
 white teeth sank into the crimson side of a peach, and for 
 the next minute she said nothing, but gave herself up to a 
 child-like ecstasy of enjoyment, for the road was dusty, and 
 this luxurious way of quenching her thirst was far too 
 sweet for words. Besides, her companions were just as 
 pleasantly employed. She saw the young man wiping a 
 drop of amber juice from his beard, and wondered where 
 the Abigail found her self-command as she watched her 
 slowly peeling one of the finest pears with a silver fruit- 
 knife which she took from her traveling satchel. 
 
 " Splendid, aint they ? " she said, at length, leaning for- 
 ward and tossing a peach-stone out of the window, while 
 she searched the golden and crimson heap with her disen- 
 gaged hand for another peach, mellow and juicy as the last. 
 " I had no idea anything on earth could be so delightful. 
 We had breakfast so early, and I do believe I was almost 
 hungry. Oh, how pleasant it must be when one is really 
 famished ! " 
 
 Here Clara cast another peach-stone through the win- 
 dow, and began to trifle with a pear, just as Judson cut a
 
 188 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 dainty slice from the fruit she had been preparing. Clara 
 laughed, and reached a handful of fruit over to the gentle- 
 man who had made her a gift of the whole. He received 
 it cheerfully in fact, it was quite impossible for any man 
 under thirty to have spent a half hour in that young girl's 
 society without feeling the heart in his bosom grow softer 
 and warmer. 
 
 " What a lovely day it is ! " she said, tossing off her hat, 
 and leaning forward, that the wind might blow on her face, 
 which at the moment had all the sweet blooming freshness 
 of a child's. " I wonder if the country is as green and 
 fresh as this, where we are going ? " 
 
 " Ah, I can answer you. It is far more beautiful. 
 Hough ton Castle is among the hills. The park is like a 
 forest, and in the valley you can see a river, winding in and 
 out" like gleams of quicksilver. A grand old place is 
 Honghton Castle, let me answer you, Lady Clara." 
 
 Clara shook her head, and drew back in her seat. 
 
 " I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that the dear old 
 lady could just take the title and the castle with her." 
 
 She seemed very much in earnest, and pulled the sailor's 
 hat down over her eyes, to conceal the tears, that were fill- 
 ing them with moisture. 
 
 Lord Hilton was surprised. He had certainly intended 
 to interest the young lady by a description of the noble 
 place that would some day be hers. 
 
 " Ah, wait till you have seen Houghton. It is one of 
 the finest old strongholds in the kingdom. The only won- 
 der is that Cromwell, that magnificent old hypocrite, hap- 
 pened to spare it. When Lady Carset stands upon her 
 own battlements, she can scarcely see the extent of her 
 lands. A very wealthy lady is the old countess." 
 
 Clara all at once began to wonder how it happened that 
 the man was giving her so much knowledge about her own
 
 ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE. 189 
 
 near relative. How did he know that her information did 
 not equal his own? 
 
 " You live near Houghton, I suppose ?" she said. 
 
 " Yes ; when the flag is up, we can see it plainly enough 
 from my grandfather's place." 
 
 Clara brightened out of her momentary depression. If 
 she were compelled to stay long at Houghton, it would be 
 pleasant to meet this handsome and pleasant young man. 
 How kind he had been about the fruit. With what genial 
 sunshine his eyes dwelt upon her, as he sought to interest 
 her about the place to which she was going. Judson was 
 not so well pleased. She had some doubts of the propriety 
 of permitting these young persons to drop into such familiar 
 conversation, with no more impressive introduction than the 
 chance courtesies of a railroad car. 
 
 True, she had known the young man when he was quite 
 a child, and liked him, as well as her prim habits and 
 narrow channel of thought would permit; but nothing in 
 her experience had taught her how to act in an emergency 
 like that. 
 
 The young people had given her no opportunity for 
 reflection, but plunged into an acquaintance at once. The 
 whole thing troubled her greatly, but what could she do? 
 
 There they sat, face to face, eating peaches together, 
 talking of the scenery, laughing now and then, again and 
 again half quarreling, as if a dozen years had ripened the 
 acquaintance between them. It quite took away her 
 appetite for the fruit, and she clasped her little silver knife, 
 with a helpless sigh, and dropping both hands into her lap, 
 wondered what on earth she could do, and of course did 
 nothing. 
 
 The young people forgot all about the prim Abigail, and 
 went on with their conversation ; but after awhile a shade 
 of sadness crept over both those young faces. Their hearts
 
 190 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 wandered off into serious reveries, and for a time they 
 became unconscious of each other's presence. 
 
 Clara was thinking of that night, which now seemed far, 
 far away, but was, in fact, scarcely twenty -four hours back 
 in her life of the words that were spoken, the promises 
 given, and sealed with kisses, which seemed burning on her 
 lips even yet. 
 
 Oh ! where was he now, the man whom she loved so 
 entirely, and whose humiliation made her heart ache, and 
 burn with sorrow and wrath every time she thought of it? 
 Would he hold to his faith with her, after such scornful 
 treatment from her father ? Where would he go ? Where 
 was he now ? He had been a wanderer always, and had 
 found himself sufficient to himself. 
 
 After he saw her the first idea of rest and a permanent 
 home had opened new vistas of hope to him. He had 
 found the one thing that had hitherto been denied to his 
 existence found it only to be driven from the light that 
 had dawned upon him, like a trespassing dog. 
 
 Clara's heart swelled as she thought of all this, and all at 
 once the prim Abigail was astonished out of all propriety 
 by a burst of sobs from the corner in which Clara had 
 retreated. 
 
 The young man looked up and came out of his own mel- 
 ancholy thoughts, just as Mrs. Judson had drawn forth her 
 smelling-bottle and was pressing it upon the girl, who 
 averted her face and sobbed out, piteously : 
 
 " Oh ! let me alone please let me alone ! " 
 
 Judson retreated backward to her place in the opposite 
 corner, while the young man motioned her to remain quiet, 
 and let the pretty creature sob out her grief unmolested. 
 
 At last Clara had wept her sudden burst of sorrow away, 
 and became conscious of her own strange conduct. She 
 pushed back her hat, drew the soft gauze streamers across
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS. 191 
 
 her eyes, and burst into a sobbing laugh, exquisitely child- 
 like, but which Judson could not in the least understand. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am getting homesick," she said. "I never 
 was so far from Oakhurst before, and, until this morning, 
 you know, I had never seen either of your faces, but all 
 that need not make such an absurd baby of me." 
 
 Mrs. Judson unfolded a fine pocket handkerchief and 
 held it toward the girl, with the most anxious look possible 
 to imagine. 
 
 "Wipe your eyes, dear young lady, wipe your eyes. We 
 are coming to Houghton, and I would not have you seen 
 with that face for the world." 
 
 "Yes," said the young man, looking out, "yonder is 
 Houghton Castle." 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " I WILL see her now, Judson." The old lady of Hough- 
 ton came out from her dressing-room as she said this. 
 
 She had a little cap of gossamer lace and silver ribbon on 
 that shaking head, and tied a girdle of silken cord around 
 the floating folds of her cashmere morning robe, which would 
 better have concealed the attenuated figure underneath, had 
 it been permitted to float loose, as it had done. But the 
 dainty old lady still felt a stir of feminine pride in her toilet, 
 and though the exertion took away all her strength, she 
 had made these pretty additions to her dress, rather than 
 meet her grandchild, for the first time, in the disarray of an 
 invalid.
 
 192 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " I will see her now, Judson." 
 
 She repeated this, panting for breath, as she sank down 
 to the couch in her favorite tower-chamber, and took the 
 delicate handkerchief of lace and cambric, on which Judson 
 had just dropped some pungent perfume. 
 
 Judson left the room ; directly the red curtain parted 
 again, and behind the grim waiting-maid came a young girl, 
 flushed with excitement and rosy with perfect health, but so 
 strangely dressed that the old countess uttered a little excla- 
 mation of surprise, mingled perhaps with a little displeasure. 
 The jaunty hat with its blue streamers, the double-breasted 
 jacket, glittering with buttons, took away her breath. 
 
 Lady Clara hesitated a moment, took off her hat hur- 
 riedly, like a naughty boy, and came forward with an easy 
 step, as if she had been in a forest, and the high heels of 
 her pretty boots trampling down wood moss, instead of the 
 tangle of flowers in that sumptuous carpet. 
 
 The old lady sat gazing on her full half a minute. The 
 girl flushed crimson under the steady look of those brown 
 eyes, turned around and gave her hat a toss to Judson, who 
 let it fall in her astonishment at the audacious act, and came 
 forward, half-indignant, half-crying. 
 
 " Grandmother ! " 
 
 As that fresh, young voice fell upon her, the old countess 
 reached forth her hand. 
 
 " My child ! " 
 
 The old voice was faint, but kind. Lovely as that young 
 creature was, she brought sadness and disappointment with 
 her. The prejudice of years is not easily swept away from 
 the mind of an aged woman, whatever her strength of 
 character may be. This girl was the step-daughter of the 
 governess she had so long detested^ and she seemed to bring 
 the atmosphere of a hated place with her. Perhaps she 
 had expected a more stately bearing in her daughter's child.
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS. 193 
 
 A chair had been drawn up to the couch by the thought- 
 ful Judson, and the countess made a gentle motion that her 
 grand-daughter should occupy it. 
 
 Clara sat down, feeling nervous and very miserable ; for 
 those eyes followed her with mournful curiosity, which the 
 high-spirited girl mistook for criticism. 
 
 " I dare say that I am not so handsome or so good as my 
 poor mother was, but she loved me dearly, everybody says 
 that, and for her sake you might be glad I am here, grand- 
 mother, especially as you sent for me." 
 
 As Clara said this, tears swelled from those blue eyes that 
 had been slowly filling, and dropped to her cheeks like rain 
 upon damask roses. This appeal, so childlike in its passion, 
 lifted the old countess out of her seeming apathy. She 
 arose, laid her hands on that young head and kissed the 
 flushed forehead. 
 
 The moment Clara felt the touch of those tender lips, she 
 threw both arms around the shadowy old woman, and broke 
 forth. 
 
 "Oh, grandmother, grandmother, don't stop to think 
 about it, but let me love you ! I want to so much, for with- 
 out that I shall be awfully homesick." 
 
 The old lady's heart beat as it had not done for years. 
 Never, since her only child went forth from those proud 
 walls a bride, had any one dared to claim her love, or speak 
 to her as one free soul speaks to another. In the haughty 
 isolation of her rank, she had almost forgotten that equa- 
 lity could ever be claimed of her. The very audacity of this 
 cry for affection stirred the old lady's pride like a trumpet. 
 
 " There speaks the Carset blood," she said, appealing to 
 the grim hand-maiden who stood by ; " always ready to give 
 and bold to claim just rights. My grandchild is of the true 
 stock, you see. God b'less her and love her as I will ! " 
 
 " There, now, that is very kind of you, grandmamma, and
 
 194 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 you are just the dearest, sweetest and queenliest lady that 
 ever made a poor girl happy, when she was, in fact, home- 
 sick as death. ' The truth is, mamma Kachael spoils me so 
 completely with her great love, and but, oh ! I forgot you 
 can't bear mamma Kachael. Dear me ! I am always getting 
 into scrapes. Does that belong to the Carset blood, I won- 
 der?" 
 
 The waiting-maid stood petrified when the old countess 
 broke into a soft, pleasant laugh, at what she deemed the 
 insolent familiarity of this speech. " Did you hear that ? " 
 she exclaimed, wiping the moisture from her eyes, and 
 increasing the vibrations of her head. 
 
 " Who but a Carset would dare ask such questions ? Gel?- 
 ting into scrapes, child ; why there never was a family so 
 reckless or so independent. That is, I speak of the males, 
 remember ! the ladies of the house but you will see in the 
 picture gallery, and judge for yourself. No commonplace 
 women can be found among the Carset ladies. Some of 
 them, my child, have intermarried with Royalty itself. 
 You are the last of the line, Lady Clara." 
 
 Clara turned pale. She thought of Hepworth Gloss, and 
 how far he was removed from royalty ; but with no thought 
 of faithlessness in her heart. She was very sure that the 
 next Lord of Houghton would wear neither crown or coro- 
 net but, like a wise girl, she sat still and said nothing. 
 
 The old countess was very feeble. Notwithstanding the 
 excitement, which left a tremulous pink on her withered 
 cheeks, the strength began to fail from her limbs. Gather- 
 ing up her feet upon the couch, she closed her eyes. 
 
 When she opened them again, Lady Clara was bending 
 toward her with a look of tender anxiet}- that went to the 
 old lady's heart. A soft smile stole over her lips, and she 
 held out her hand. 
 
 " Go to your room, my child."
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS. 195 
 
 Clara stooped down and kissed that delicate mouth with 
 her own blooming lips. 
 
 " Sleep well, grandmother," she whispered ; " I will come 
 back again by-and-by, after I have seen the other ladies in 
 the picture-gallery." 
 
 Clara picked up her hat, and was going out on tip-toe, 
 when Judson laid a long, lean hand on her arm, and 
 addressed her in one of those shrill whispers, which pene- 
 trate more surely than words. 
 
 " Don't wear that thing into my lady's presence again," 
 she said. " Did you see her eyes, when they first fell upon 
 it?" 
 
 "What, my poor little hat? Has grandmamma really 
 taken a dislike to that ? I am so sorry." 
 
 The old countess opened her eyes, and rose on one elbow 
 among her cushions. 
 
 " Let the child alone, Judson. The hat is well enough, 
 and she looked very pretty in it." 
 
 " Nobby, isn't it, grandmamma ? " said Clara, tossing 
 the hat to her head, and shaking down the blue streamers ; 
 " and I'm so fond of it." 
 
 "Judson," said the old countess, "do not attempt to 
 judge for your mistress at this time of day. No one but a 
 Carset could wear a thing like that, without looking vulgar; 
 but you saw what an air she gave it." 
 
 Judson was astounded. She had absolutely trembled, 
 when that round hat came into the room, in defiance of the 
 faint protest which she had ventured to make. 
 
 " I was afraid, my lady, that a dress like that might set 
 you against the young lady." 
 
 " Set me against my own grandchild, and she so unmis- 
 takably a Carset ! I am surprised, Judson." 
 
 "I am sure there -was no idea in my mind of giving 
 offense. She is a pretty young lady enough." 
 12
 
 196 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "Pretty! Are you speaking of that charming young 
 creature, with the air of a duchess and the heart of a child, 
 only to say that she is pretty?" 
 
 " Did I say pretty, my lady, when I think her so beauti- 
 ful?" 
 
 "All the more beautiful, Judson, for not being so tall as 
 some of the ladies of our house. She owes nothing to size. 
 Perhaps you have remarked, Judson, that those of the 
 purest Carset blood have never been large women." 
 
 A sweet, complacent smile quivered around those old lips, 
 as the countess settled back among her cushions. She, a 
 petite creature, had Carset blood in her veins from both 
 parents, and in her youth she had been distinguished 
 among the most beautiful women of England. She was 
 thinking of those days, when those withered eyelids closed 
 again, and they followed her softly into her sleep, which 
 the grim maid watched with the faithfulness of a slave. 
 
 Meantime Clara went into the long picture gallery, and 
 there among a crowd of statues, and deeply-toned pictures 
 by the old masters, made the acquaintance of her stately 
 ancestors, and of the ladies who had one and all been peer- 
 esses in their own right an access of rank, prized almost 
 like a heritage of royalty by the old lady in the tower- 
 chamber. 
 
 No one had gone with the young heiress into the gallery, 
 for, with her childish wilfulness, she had preferred to go 
 alone, and single out the Carset ladies by their resemblance 
 to the old countess. 
 
 All at once she stopped before the picture of a lady, 
 whose face struck her with a sudden sense of recognition. 
 She looked at it earnestly the golden brown hair, the 
 downcast eyes, the flowing white dress. Across the mind 
 of that wondering girl, came the shadow of another woman
 
 EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. 197 
 
 upon a white bed, with hair and eyes like those ; but wide 
 open, and to her lips came two words, " My Mother !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. 
 
 IT often happens that a proud, austere person, so ground- 
 ed in opinions and prejudices as to be considered above and 
 beyond ordinary influences, will all at once, give heart and 
 reason up to passionate or capricious fondness for some 
 individual often a very child and yield everything to 
 persuasion when reason is utterly rejected. 
 
 Indeed, few people like to be convinced; but the strongest 
 mind ever bestowed on man or woman -finds something 
 gratifying to self-love in the persuasive enticements of 
 affection. 
 
 This singular moral phenomenon astonished the neigh- 
 bors and household of Lady Carset when she gave herself 
 up, with the abandon of a child, to the caressing young 
 creature, who had, it seemed, appeared in her home to win 
 her back from the very brink of the grave, and make the 
 sunset of her long life brighter with love than the dawn 
 had been. 
 
 There was nothing in the young girl which did not seem 
 beautiful to the old relative. Her originality, which made 
 the well-trained servants stare, seemed the perfection of 
 piquant grace to one whose fastidious tastes had been an 
 example to the whole neighborhood. In her estimation 
 Lady Clara could do nothing which was not in itself loveli- 
 est and best. The old lady had been so long without an
 
 198 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 object of affection, that her love of this girl became almost a 
 monomania. 
 
 "I have an atonement to make," she would say to herself 
 in excuse for this extraordinary and most pleasant subjuga- 
 tion ; " for years and years I have driven this young crea- 
 ture from me because of what, I am almost convinced, were 
 unfounded suspicions against her father and that woman. 
 It is but just that I should accept my grandchild with gen- 
 erous confidence ; and she deserves it she deserves it." 
 
 After reasoning in this fashion awhile the repentant old 
 lady would rack her brain for some new device by which 
 this bright creature, who had come like a sunbeam into her 
 house, might be persuaded never to leave it again. It was 
 not altogether the selfishness of affection that actuated this 
 honorable woman. It was hard to believe that a Carset 
 could have acted unjustly, or even be mistaken ; but, once 
 convinced of that, her very pride insisted on a generous 
 atonement. Never in her life had she been so humiliated 
 as when the sight of those diamonds convinced her of the 
 cruel charge which she had maintained for years against a 
 person innocent of the offence imputed to her. She remem- 
 bered, with compunction, how much harm she had done 
 this woman, whose greatest fault now seemed to be that 
 Lord Hope had married her. 
 
 Her own example had sufficed to exclude Lady Hope 
 from the society to which her husband's rank entitled her, 
 and her open expressions of dislike had cast a ban upon the 
 stepmother, which had, to an extent, reacted on her own 
 grandchild. 
 
 These thoughts troubled the proud old peeress a long 
 time before she gave them expression ; but, one day, Clara 
 sat by her, looking a little sad, for, now that the excitement 
 of her first coming was over, she began to think of Hep- 
 worth Gloss to wonder where he was, and yearn for some
 
 EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. 199 
 
 news of him to a degree that clouded her whole bright being 
 like a feeling of homesickness. 
 
 "Poor child!" thought the old lady, while her soft, 
 brown eyes dwelt upon that downcast face, as it bent over a 
 piece of embroidery in which a cactus-flower formed the 
 chief central glory; "how weary and troubled she looks! 
 No wonder, poor thing ! half her time is spent here with a 
 stupid old woman, shut up so long from the world that she 
 is but dull company for any one. I wonder if the thing 
 which is upon my mind would really make her happy ? " 
 
 "Clara." 
 
 The girl started. She had been so lost in thought that 
 those bright eyes had been watching her some minutes, 
 while she unconsciously pursued her work, and indulged in 
 a reverie which was shadowed upon her features. 
 
 " Clara, you have not told me much about your step- 
 mother." 
 
 "But I think of her; I was thinking of her then. In- 
 deed, indeed, grandmamma, I always must love mamma 
 Rachael, for she has been everything that is good and kind 
 to me I only wish you could understand how kind. If I 
 know anything it is because she taught me." 
 
 "Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate 
 that cruel old Lady Carset," said the countess, a little sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 "No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to 
 make me dislike you ; but I did it was terribly wicked ; 
 but how could I help it, loving her so, and knowing that it 
 was you that stood in the way of all she most desired in 
 life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen yon, and 
 I loved her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and 
 put down by people who were not fit to buckle her shoes, all 
 because you would not like her."
 
 200 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " And you will always love her better than the cruel old 
 lady ? 
 
 " Cruel ! How can you ? There never was a sweeter, 
 kinder, or more lovely old darling in the world than you 
 are ! but then she is good, too, and so unhappy at times, it 
 almost breaks my heart to look in her face." 
 
 " And you think I have made her so ? " 
 
 " I think you might make her very happy, if you only 
 would, grandmamma." 
 
 " Would that make you happy, little one ? " 
 
 The old lady reached out her little, withered hand, and 
 patted Clara's fingers, as they paused in her work, while she 
 spoke. The girl's face brightened. She seized the little 
 hand between her rosy palms, and pressed it to her lips. 
 
 " Oh, grandmamma ! can you mean it? " 
 
 " I always mean to be just, Clara." 
 
 " Then you will be very, very kind to her ? " 
 
 " Does your father love this woman ? " 
 
 "Lovelier? Oh, yes ! but this thing has come a little 
 between them. She has grown shy of going out, while he 
 must be in the world ; and all her life seems to vanish when 
 he is away. Sometimes it makes my heart ache to think 
 how much she loves him." 
 
 " But he loves you ? " 
 
 "Almost as much as mamma Eachael does. He was 
 never cross to me but once." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 Clara turned pale, and took up her needle. 
 
 " I would rather not talk about that just now. You 
 might be more angry than my father was." 
 
 " It would be very difficult for me to get angry with you, 
 little one." 
 
 " But you would, if I were to be very obstinate, and insist
 
 EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. 201 
 
 on having my own way about about something that 
 that" 
 
 The old lady's face grew very serious. She understood 
 these signs, and they troubled her ; but she was feeble, and 
 shrank from any knowledge that would bring excitement 
 with it. 
 
 " Some day we will talk of all that," she said, with a 
 little weary closing of the eyes. 
 
 Clara drew a deep breath. See had been on the verge of 
 making a confidante of the old lady, and felt a sense of 
 relief when the" subject was thus evaded. 
 
 The countess opened her eyes again. 
 
 " Clara," she said," bring my writing-table here. We will 
 not trouble ourselves to ring for Judson." 
 
 Clara dropped her embroidery, and brought the sofa-table, 
 with all its exquisite appointments for writing. The old lady 
 sat upright on her couch, took the pen, and began to write 
 on the creamy note-paper her grandchild had placed before 
 her. Clara watched that slender hand as it glided across 
 the paper, leaving delicate, upright letters perfect as an en- 
 graving, as it moved. When the paper was covered, she 
 folded the missive with dainty precision, selected an enve- 
 lope, on which her coronet was entangled in a monogram, 
 and was about to seal it with a ring, which she took from 
 her finger ; but recollecting herself, she drew the letter out, 
 and handed it to Clara, with a smile that kindled her 
 whole face. 
 
 Clara read the letter, threw her arms around the old lady, 
 and covered her faces with kisses. 
 
 " Oh, grandmamma, you are too good ! Do you do you 
 really mean it? Ah, this is happiness!" 
 
 " You shall help me make out the invitations. There 
 was a time. when PIqughton had no empty chambers. It 
 will go hard, my dear, if we cannot find entertainment for
 
 202 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 your father and the lady he has married. On that day, 
 Clara, I will present you to the world as my grandchild and 
 heiress." 
 
 " Not yet ! oh, not yet ! Wait till you know more of 
 me." 
 
 "Hush ! hush ! This is not my only object. If I have 
 wronged your stepmother, or neglected your father, the 
 whole country shall see that a Carset knows how to make 
 reparation. Lady Hope, too, shall be presented to my 
 friends as an honored guest. This entertainment will be my 
 last, but they shall find that the old countess knows how to 
 receive her guests." 
 
 " Grandmother, you are an an . You are just the 
 sweetest old lady that ever drew breath ! If you were to 
 live a thousand years, I should love you better and better 
 every day ! To see you and Lady Hope together will be 
 splendid ! And they are to stay at Houghton a month. 
 By that time you will love each other dearly." 
 
 Clara took up her work again, but the needle flashed like 
 a thread of lightning in her unsteady fingers. She could 
 not work after this glorious news. 
 
 The old lady smiled blandly, and sank down among her 
 cushions, exhausted. 
 
 " Go out and take a walk in the park," she said, observ- 
 ing that Clara was fluttering over her embroidery like a 
 bird in its cage. " It will do you good, and I will try to 
 sleep a little."
 
 DOWN BY THE BROOK. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS. 
 
 CLARA put on her hat and wandered off into the park, as 
 happy as a bird. 
 
 She had found the dearest old fairy godmother. She saw 
 a glorious light breaking in upon the life of her stepmother, 
 and out of all this generous conduct in the old countess 
 sprang a vague hope that she might yet be won to sanction 
 her marriage with the man of her choice. 
 
 She took no heed of the way, but wandered on, treading 
 the earth like a sylph, and breaking into little snatches of 
 song whenever the birds in the branches put her in mind of 
 it. She was descending into a little, ferny hollow, with a 
 brook creeping along the bottom, along which a narrow foot- 
 path ran, when the crackle of a broken branch, and the quick 
 tread of a foot, made her pause and look at the opposite 
 bank, down which a young man was coming, with more 
 swiftness than he seemed to desire, for he only saved him- 
 self from a plunge in the brook by leaping over it, with a 
 bound that brought him to Clara's side. It was Lord 
 Hilton. 
 
 "Forgive me, if I came near running you down," he said, 
 with laughter in his eyes, and taking off his hat; "it was 
 neck or nothing with me, after I once got one downward 
 plunge. I inquired for you at the castle, and they told me 
 that you had just gone out of sight in this direction, so I 
 followed and am here." 
 
 Clara held out her hand, with the sweet, joyous laugh of 
 a pleased child. She was very happy, just then, and he saw 
 it in her eyes.
 
 204 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "But you have been long in coming," she said. "I told 
 grandmamma about our journey together, and she has been 
 expecting you at Houghton every day." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " Of course, I have been dreadfully disappointed. Are 
 you aware that it is more than a fortnight since you bought 
 those peaches for me ? " 
 
 " But you will approve my reasons for keeping away, 
 when I tell you what they are." 
 
 " Perhaps I doubt it ; but tell me." 
 
 " You will not be angry ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Not if I tell you the plain truth like an honest man ? " 
 
 "I love the truth. Why should it offend me ? " 
 
 " Lady Clara, I have almost resolved to make a confi- 
 dante of you." 
 
 Clara brushed some fallen leaves from a rock, near which 
 they were standing, and sat down, motioning him to take 
 the vacant place by her side. 
 
 " There now let us begin." 
 
 " Do you guess why I did not come before, Lady Clara ? " 
 
 " No I have not the least idea. Perhaps you did not 
 like me, or were shocked with my hat ; poor thing, it is get- 
 ting awfully shabby." 
 
 Shall I tell you ? " 
 
 "Of course; why not?" 
 
 " Because the old gentleman over yonder and my lady at 
 Houghton, had set their hearts upon it." 
 
 " Set their hearts upon it. How ? " 
 
 " They have decreed that I shall fall in love with you, 
 and you with me, at first sight." 
 
 Clara stared at him a moment, with her widening blue 
 eyes, and then broke into a laugh that set all the birds 
 about her to singing in a joyous chorus.
 
 DOWN BY THE BBOOK. 205 
 
 " What, you and I?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "But you have more sense. You could not be induced 
 to oblige them. I feel quite sure." 
 
 " But why, pray ? Am I so very stupid ? " 
 
 " No ; but you are so very kind, and would not do any- 
 thing so cruel." 
 
 Lord Hilton laughed; he could not help it. 
 
 " But why would it be cruel ? " 
 
 " Because because it would get me into trouble. 
 Grandmamma is a lovely old angel, and to oblige her I 
 would fall in love with fifty men if it were possible, espe- 
 cially after what she has done to-day: but it is not pos- 
 sible." 
 
 "And the old gentleman at the opposite side of the 
 valley is good as gold, and I should like to oblige him ; and 
 sometimes I feel as if it could be done, so far as I am con- 
 cerned, but for one thing." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 " Lady Clara, if I had not been fatally iu love already, I 
 should by this time have adored you." 
 
 The color came and went in the girl's face. She tore a 
 handful of ferns from the rock, and dropped them into the 
 water at her feet ; then she lifted her eyes to the young 
 man's face, with the innocent confidence of a child. Her 
 voice was low and timid as she spoke again ; but the ring 
 of modest truth was there. 
 
 "Lord Hilton, I am very young; but in what you have 
 said, I can see that you and I ought to understand each 
 other. You love another person I, too, am beloved." 
 
 A shade of disappointment swept the young man's fea- 
 tures. He had not wished this fair girl to care for him, 
 yet the thought that it was impossible brought a little 
 annoyance with it.
 
 206 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "And yourself?" 
 
 " I have permitted a man to say he loved me, and did 
 not rebuke him ; because [every word he spoke made my 
 heart leap." 
 
 "But will the old countess consent?" 
 
 " I thought so I hoped so, till you startled me with this 
 idea about yourself. Oh ! be firm, be firm in hating me. 
 Don't leave the whole battle to a poor little girl." 
 
 "Perhaps I shall not feel all your earnestness, for there 
 is no hope in the future for me, with or without consent. 
 I can never turn back to the past, though I am not villain, 
 enough to lay a heart which contains the image of 
 another at any woman's feet, without giving her a full 
 knowledge of that which has gone before. The love which 
 I confess to you, Lady Clara, was put resolutely behind me 
 before we met." 
 
 Quick as thought a suspicion flashed through the girl's 
 brain. She turned her eyes full upon the handsome head 
 and face of the young man, and examined his features 
 keenly. His hat was off; he was bending earnestly toward 
 her. 
 
 " Lord Hilton, you sat in a box in the opera next to us 
 on the night when that young American singer broke down. 
 I remember your head now. You were leaning from the 
 box when she fainted ; her eyes were turned upon you as 
 she fell. She is the woman you love." 
 
 " Say whom I loved, and Heaven knows I did love her ; 
 but she fled from me without a word, to expose herself upon 
 that stage. I thought her the daughter of a respectable 
 man, at least ; when I am told in every club-house, she is 
 the nameless child of that woman, Olympia. I would not 
 believe it, till the actress confirmed the story with her own 
 lips ; then I learned that her home was with this woman, 
 and that she, a creature I had believed innocent as the wild
 
 DOWN BY THE BROOK. 207 
 
 blossoms, had used her glorious voice for the entertainment 
 of her mother's Sunday evening parties." 
 
 Lady Clara grew pale, and her eyes began to flash. 
 
 "You are doing great wrong to a noble and good young 
 lady," she said, in a clear, ringing voice, from which all 
 laughter had gone out. " You are unjust, cruel wickedly 
 cruel both to yourself and her. I have no patience with 
 you!" 
 
 " Do you know Caroline, then ? But that is impossible." 
 
 "Impossible what? That I should know the daughter 
 of Olympia? But I do know her. There was a time, I 
 honestly believe, when we were children together, cared for 
 by the same nurse. This I can assure you, Lord Hilton : 
 she was not brought up by the actress ; never saw her, in 
 truth, until she was over sixteen years old, when the 
 woman, hearing of her genius and beauty, claimed her as a 
 chattel rather than a child." 
 
 "Are you sure of this, Lady Clara?" inquired the 
 young man, greatly disturbed. 
 
 " I know it. The poor young lady, brought up with 
 such delicate care, educated as if she were one day to be- 
 come a peeress of the land, took a terrible dislike to the 
 stage, and, so long as she dared, protested against the life Jthat 
 ambitious actress had marked out for her. That night you 
 saw her she was forced upon the stage after praying upon 
 her knees to be spared. Her acting, from the first, was 
 desperation. She saw you, and it became despair; and you 
 could doubt her you could leave her. Lord Hilton, I hate 
 you ! " 
 
 " I begin to hate myself," said the young man in a low- 
 voice; but even now, what can I do ? What power have I 
 to wrest her from the influence of that woman?" 
 
 " What porver ? The power of honest and generous love. 
 Ask her to marry you."
 
 208 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Lord Hilton answered with a faint, bitter laugh. 
 
 "Ask her to marry me, and, with that act, proclaim my- 
 self a beggar ! I tell you, Lady Clara, there is not upon this 
 earth a creature so dependent as a nobleman with nothing 
 but expectations. Were I to follow your advice the doors 
 of my home would be closed against me. I should have a 
 title, by courtesy, to offer my wife, and nothing more. She 
 would, perhaps, be compelled to go on the stage to support 
 me a poor substitute for these two vast estates which these 
 old people hope to unite in us." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY. 
 
 LADY CLARA turned on the young nobleman with glow- 
 ing anger. 
 
 "Lord Hilton," she said, " it is the land they are think- 
 ing of; but an earthquake may swallow it before I will sell 
 a corner of my heart at their price. I am only a girl, Lord 
 Hilton, and, perhaps, this ancestral grandeur seems less to 
 me on that account ; but the noblest possession that can be 
 given to me is liberty liberty of heart, limb and con- 
 science liberty to love and hate though I do not hate 
 any one very much but to love that which is splendid 
 and good without regard to anj'thing else. The grandest 
 thing upon the face of the earth, Lord Hilton, is to own 
 oneself. If I were a man no one should own me but the 
 woman I loved." 
 
 Was the girl inspired ? You would have thought so 
 from the sparkle that came into her eyes, like sunshine
 
 HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER WAY. 269 
 
 striking the dew in a violet from the quick, generous 
 curve of her lips, and the flush of color, that rushed over 
 her face. 
 
 Lord Hilton looked at her with such admiration as would, 
 perhaps, have made obedience to the wishes of his family 
 an easier thing than he dreamed of; but he knew some- 
 thing of the world, and had, more than once, searched 
 the female hearts that came in his way, for the gratification 
 of vanity alone. He read the one before him on the 
 instant. 
 
 " The man you speak of is without these advantages," he 
 said. " I understand they are a wall between you and 
 him." 
 
 " No. This morning my grandmother told me that I 
 was to be her heiress ; but I entreated her to take time. 
 Before she decides, I wish her to judge of this man as he 
 is, without prejudice or favor. Then she shall know all, 
 and if she is willing to endow us with her wealth, there 
 never was so grateful a girl as I shall be ; but, if not, I will 
 fall upon my knees, kiss her dear old hand, thank her for 
 what she has done, and go away to America, where a 
 man's talents and energies can work out something that 
 will answer very well for a patent of nobility." 
 
 "And you will carry this out ? give up the title ? " 
 
 " The title ! Ah, that may be of value in America," 
 answered Clara, with a laugh full of good-natured scorn ; 
 " those things, they tell me, are at a premium out yonder." 
 
 "Brave girl ! You shame me by this generous energy." 
 
 "Shame you? not at all; only I happen to know that 
 there is something worth living for besides the things 
 we hold so precious. A .man, brave enough to work out his 
 own career, has taught me that real greatness is not always 
 hereditary. Ah ! if you could only think so, too, Lord Hil-
 
 210 THE OLD COUNTERS. 
 
 ton, you would understand that there is nothing on earth so 
 sweet as the love for which we make sacrifices." 
 
 " What a strange girl you are, Lady Clara! Up to this 
 time you have seemed to me only a very pretty and very 
 capricious child a charming child, truly, but " 
 
 " There it is again," cried the girl falling back into her 
 natural manner ; " everybody will insist on treating me like 
 a child. Oh ! how I wish 1 was a little taller, like like 
 Caroline ! " 
 
 Lord Hilton started, and a flood of recollections came 
 back upon him that soft Italian sky, a flight of vine- 
 draped terraces, and, on the steps, that tall, beautiful girl 
 watching for him. In this picture he forgot Olympia and 
 everything that had repulsed him. 
 
 " I shall never think of you as a child again, but as her 
 friend her earnest, kind, noble friend ! " 
 
 "And so I am. Oh ! if I were a man, and loved her " 
 
 "Well, what would you do in my place, supposing your- 
 self a man, Lady Clara ? " 
 
 " This is what I would do : The old gentleman over 
 yonder has a generous heart, I dare say. I would first 
 make my peace with that noble girl. It would not be easy, 
 I can tell you, for she is proud as an empress ; but she 
 would be forgiving in the end, and for that I should adore 
 her. Then I would take her by the hand, lead her up to 
 that kind old nobleman over yonder for I dare say, he is 
 like my blessed grandmother, proud as Lucifer and kind as 
 an angel and I would just tell him the truth, lay the 
 whole case before him, and either take his blessing on two 
 bowed heads, or throw down my title, gather up all that 
 honorably belonged to me, and carry my youth, my knowl- 
 edge, and my energies into a country where no man would 
 question whether my wife had Olympia's blood in her veins 
 or not. This is what I would do, Lord Hilton."
 
 HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER WAY. 211 
 
 " Lady Clara, I thank you." 
 
 Lord Hilton reached out his hand, smiling, but there was 
 moisture in his eyes. 
 
 "And you will do it ? " 
 
 " First, Lady Clara, I must have her forgiveness for 
 doubting her for being a coward. Where is she now ? 
 Can you tell me ? " 
 
 " 111, very ill, battling breathlessly with that woman, 
 who still persists on her reappearance. You can save her 
 from it. Will you ? " 
 
 "No wonder you ask the question, Lady Clara, I have 
 not deserved great confidence. But one thing; these are 
 strange confessions that we have made to each other; let 
 them rest inviolate between us. We shall be friends. Let 
 the world think us more, if it likes." 
 
 "With all my heart. And now, good-by. I am going 
 back to the castle." 
 
 When Clara reached the castle she found a letter waiting 
 for her. If was from Margaret, who was still in London, at 
 Olympia's house. , 
 
 Clara read this letter with a very thoughtful face, and 
 went at once to Lady Carset's room, with the letter in her 
 pocket and painful anxiety in her heart. 
 
 Lady Carset had come out of her sleep, wonderfully 
 refreshed and cheerful. 
 
 The effort which she had so generously made to make 
 atonement for what she considered the one mistake of her 
 life, gave to her own heart a feeling of exquisite rest. The 
 company of her grandchild also had let a whole burst of 
 sunshine into that princely old castle, and its mistress 
 seemed to have grown. -young in its warmth and brightness. 
 She had been thinking of the girl ever since the sleep left 
 her eyelids, and now, when she came in, with her sweet face 
 13
 
 212 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 clouded, the idea that had been floating in her brain took 
 form. 
 
 " You seem troubled, Clara," she said. " Did the great, 
 wandering old park frighten you with its loneliness ? Sit 
 down, darling, and we will talk of something I have just 
 been thinking of." 
 
 Clara sat down on the foot of the couch, and taking the 
 small feet of her grandmother into her lap, began to smooth 
 and caress them with her hand. 
 
 "I am an old, old woman, my darling, and not over 
 strong, so it is impossible for me to make a companion to 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, but I love you so much ! " 
 
 " I know, dear ; but would you not like a companion of 
 your own age some nice young lady, who could go with 
 you into the park, share the pretty phaeton, and help drive 
 the ponies I have orderd for you, when I am taking my rest 
 here?" 
 
 " Oh, grandmamma, who told you what was in my mind ? 
 how could you have guessed it ? Can I may I ? Grand- 
 mamma, 1 know the very person ! " 
 
 " She must be well-educated and well-bred." 
 
 " She is a lady about my age, but handsomer." 
 
 "I will not believe that, Clara," said the old lady, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " But she is taller, more queenly. You will like her so 
 much ! Besides, she is in such trouble. 1 will tell you all 
 about it, grandmamma." 
 
 Then Lady Clara told Caroline's story, how she had been 
 brought up by a good man, believing herself his child, 
 until he and his good wife died, and, just as she grew into 
 womanhood was claimed by the actress Olympia, who was 
 determined to force her upon the stage, from which she 
 shrank with a loathing that had made her ill. Lady Clara
 
 HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER WAY. 213 
 
 did not mention the name of Daniel Yates, because it had 
 made no impression upon her, if, indeed, she had heard it} 
 but she succeeded in interesting the old countess, and it was 
 decided that Caroline and the servant who had clung to her 
 so faithfully should b.e sent for. 
 
 When Lady Clara left her grandmother's room, the face 
 that had been so clouded was radiant, for, after having all 
 her anxieties swept away, as it seemed by a miracle, she had 
 ventured upon a positive request, which made her breath 
 come short as she made' it. 
 
 With some adroitness, and a talent that would have made 
 her fortune on the stage, she brought the subject round to 
 Lady Hope, and from her to the fact that she had an only 
 brother, who had travelled in foreign parts for years, but 
 had just come back to England, and had been at Oakhurst. 
 
 The old lady listened with gentle attention, but did not 
 divine Clara's wishes by intuition as she had before. 
 
 " He is mamma Rachael's only relative, and she loves 
 him dearly," said Clara. "I think she would always like to 
 have him with her." 
 
 Even this gentle hint did not arouse the old lady, who was 
 falling back into a pleasant lethargy, so common to aged 
 persons. 
 
 "You would like him yourself, grandmamma," continued 
 Clara, getting anxious ; " he has seen so much, and talks so 
 well ; besides, he knows everything about horses, and taught 
 me so man}' things about managing them." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Lady Carset, arousing herself, for she 
 had been a splendid horsewoman in her time. " It would 
 be a great comfort if we had some one besides the groom to 
 advise with about the ponies. Then, we must have a couple 
 of saddle horses for you and the American young lady. 
 Would this young gentleman Is he young, Clara?" 
 
 " Not very," answered Clara, blushing quietly, and droop-
 
 214 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 ing her head to hide the fact, as the old lady took up her 
 sentence again. 
 
 " I suppose not. So, as your stepmother might be pleased, 
 what objection would there be to inviting this gentleman 
 to the castle ? When Lady Hope comes, I would like to 
 have as many of her friends here as possible. Houghton 
 will seem more like home to her. As for you, Clara, it will 
 always be your home, so we must try and make it pleasant. 
 Write the letter for me, child, and invite the gentleman 
 here." 
 
 It was this conversation that sent Lady Clara out of her 
 grandmother's room with that radiant face. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. 
 
 " TAKE your choice, young lady, take your choice ! Either 
 consent to have your name on the bills for Monday night, 
 or leave my house, bag and baggage, one and all of you ! 
 Either obey me or go ! I wash my hands of the whole 
 affair." 
 
 Here Olympia rubbed one soft white hand over the other, 
 and shook them apart, as if she were already washing off 
 the annoyance that proud girl had given her. 
 
 Caroline was deathly pale. She had grown thin and lan- 
 guid with the illness that still hung about her. Around 
 her enlarged eyes lay faint, purplish shadows, that deepened 
 their sad expression ; but, with all her weakness, a look of 
 settled resolution lay on her face. 
 
 " Be it so, theu ! " she said, with pathetic sadness. " If 
 my own mother-^"
 
 THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. 215 
 
 <l Mother ? Hush that ! I don't believe a word of it I 
 Brown may talk, and swear that he never lost sight of you, 
 but he needn't tell me! My daughter! why don't you 
 glory in the stage, then ? Why don't you go down on your 
 knees and thank me for that voice ? Don't dare to call me 
 mother till you can learn how to obey me ! " 
 
 " I cannot obey you in this. If you drive me out to per. 
 ish in the street I will not !" 
 
 11 Then into the street you go ! Let Brown try his hand 
 at earning a living for you. It is more his duty than mine." 
 
 Caroline turned a wild, wistful look on the woman as she 
 said this ; then she moved a step toward her, and the tones 
 of her voice, as they came through her white lips, were 
 mournful and stormy, like wind over snow. 
 
 " What do you mean, madam ? What is it that you 
 insinuate?" 
 
 " Only this," answered Olympia, with a malicious laugh. 
 " As you are resolved as you never will be anything to me 
 again, and are determined to throw away all your advan- 
 tages, I think the truth will bring down your pride a little, 
 and so mean to give it just for once. I really do suppose 
 that you are my daughter else, where did you get the voice 
 you are giving to the wind ? But, if you are, that" man 
 Brown is your father, for he was my husband once." 
 
 Caroline stood looking at the woman, white and still, her 
 large eyes widening, all her features in a tumult. Then she 
 fell upon her knees, covered her face with both hands, and 
 cried out : 
 
 " Oh, my God ! is this good man my father ? Are these 
 the thrills of joy that a child knows for its parent?" 
 
 A man who had opened the door of Olympia's boudoir 
 was arrested on the threshold by these words. 
 
 Olympia saw him and sank to a chair, laughing mali- 
 ciously.
 
 216 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "Ask him," she said, pointing to the man; "ask him. 
 Don't look so astonished, Brown. 1 have told her all ahout 
 it, and you see how white it has made her. She does not 
 seem to relish you for a father much more than she does the 
 stage ! " 
 
 Caroline dashed the tears from her eyes, and arose, with a 
 smile breaking through the scattered moisture. 
 
 "Not like him! He has always been kind, good, gene- 
 rous. I did not need this to make me love him. Father, 
 my father ! how many times I have called you so, but this 
 is real! Oh, God be thanked that you are my father! " 
 
 " Ask him how he intends to support you," broke in 
 Olympia, washing her hands over again in dumb show, 
 and drawing in her breath till it hissed through her white 
 teeth, as if a snake had crept up from her bad heart. 
 
 "I will support her! God helping me, I will! Don't 
 feel down-hearted, my poor child. You shall not be 
 ashamed of me. For your sake I will do anything. I can 
 go into an orchestra." 
 
 "What! I ashamed of you, my father? Why, it gives 
 us to each other. I have something in this wide world to 
 love ! " 
 
 Brown's eyes filled with tears. He was trembling vio- 
 lently. 
 
 "Father, my dear father!" murmured Caroline, drawing 
 close to him, wjth a feeling that he was all the friend she 
 had in the world, "do not look so troubled. This gives me 
 such joy that I cannot" bear to see tears in your eyes, my 
 father." 
 
 Brown did not speak ; he had no power of voice, but 
 stood, with her hands in his, looking into her face in pa- 
 thetic silence. 
 
 Olympia arose. 
 
 " It is a pretty scene, and well acted," she said ; " but I
 
 THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. 217 
 
 am tired of being sole audience. When you have settled 
 upon anything, I shall have the pleasure of bidding you 
 farewell. I must go to rehearsal now. When I come back, 
 it will be convenient to have the house to myself. I give a 
 little supper this evening, and I remember you do not 
 exactly approve of my little suppers, and, for the world, 
 would not shock the young lady ! Good morning, Caroline. 
 Good morning, Brown. You see our pretty experiment has 
 failed, and we have got to part again. I think this time 
 will be forever ! " 
 
 Olympia swept out of the room and entered her carriage, 
 looking like a baffled fury. 
 
 Then those two were left together, and for half an hour 
 they sat, looking at each other with sad, wistful eyes, 
 talking of the past in snatches, till slowly and sadly their 
 minds turned to the future, and that looked blank enough 
 to them. What could they do ? Olympia had never been 
 generous to her daughter or the ageiA They had neither 
 money nor valuables. How were they to live, even for a 
 week? 
 
 " I can, perhaps, obtain a situation in some orchestra." ' 
 
 Poor Brown spoke under his breath, for he knew well 
 enough that Olympia would never permit him to earn h'3 
 bread in that way, so long as her influence in the theatres 
 could prevent it ; but it was the only hopeful idea he could 
 think of, and so ho suggested it with desponding hesitation. 
 But, to the young girl, there was encouragement even ia 
 this. 
 
 "And I can take pupils. You remember the young lady 
 that came to me that night in the dressing-room Lord 
 Hope's daughter? " 
 
 "Remember her! y exclaimed Brown, brightening all 
 over, " I should think so ! When she turned her face 
 upon me end said, 'Don't be so anxious, sir. She is
 
 218 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 better now,' I longed to fall down on my knees and worship 
 her ! " 
 
 Tears came into Caroline's eyes. Her nature was noble 
 and full of gratitude. She could endure wrong and 
 cruelty without weeping, but generous and kind actions 
 melted her heart. 
 
 "Ah, how good she was; we can trust her, my father." 
 
 How falteringly, and with what pathos she used this 
 grand old word now ! Before, she had done it in affec- 
 tionate play, but now, a solemn feeling of tenderness 
 thrilled the syllables, as "father" dropped from her lips, 
 and made the heart swell in his bosom with a tremulous 
 response. 
 
 " She will speak to Lady Hope, and they will recommend 
 pupils to us. Oh, if we could only go back to Italy ! " 
 
 As this exclamation was on her lips, the servant in blue 
 and silver came through the door with a salver in his hand, 
 on which lay a letter. The seal and monogram had struck 
 his eye, and he brought the ^-missive in with an excess of 
 ceremony that would have been laughable at another time. 
 He brought the letter to Caroline. She tore it open, and 
 an eager, almost wild look of thankfulness swept over her 
 face as she read it. 
 
 " Oh, father, father ! See what the good God has done 
 for us ! " 
 
 The servant, who lingered in the room, was so astonished 
 at hearing that sacred name used with thanksgiving or 
 reverence in Olympia's house, that he dropped the silver 
 tray and stood open-mouthed regarding the j T ouug lady. 
 
 " Read it ! read it ! Oh, this will be Heaven to us. Ke- 
 mark, please, you are to come with me and Eliza. Let us 
 start by the very next train." 
 
 It was Lady Clara's letter, which, of course, contained 
 an invitation from the old countess. Clara had added a
 
 THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. 219 
 
 little hospitality of her own, and suggested that Brown 
 should come to Hough ton for awhile, and give her music 
 lessons she was getting so out of practice. As usual, the 
 girl had her way, and that letter was the result. But 
 Brown's face grew thoughtful as he read. 
 
 "What is the matter?" inquired Caroline, anxiously. 
 
 " But how are we to get there ? " 
 
 All the anxiety that made Brown's heart heavy under 
 this good news, broke out in these words. Caroline's face 
 clouded, and her voice faltered. 
 
 " Let me call Eliza and Margaret ; perhaps they can 
 point out something." 
 
 She rang the bell, and directly both the maids were in- 
 formed of the dilemma they were in. 
 
 What was to be done? It was impossible to remain a 
 day longer in Olympia's house. The thought was intolera- 
 ble. Margaret and Eliza stood looking at each other in 
 blank helplessness. What was to be done ? All at once 
 Margaret gave her head a fling and brightened all over. 
 
 " Never mind," she said, with one of her old coquettish 
 gestures. " I ma} r , I may who knows ? " 
 
 Without further explanation the girl went up stairs, got 
 out her most becoming hat and feather for she had never 
 been restricted, like an English servant, in such matters 
 wrapped a scarlet shawl over her flounced dress, and, after 
 practising a little before the mirror, came down with a 
 glittering parasol in her hand. 
 
 "Eliza, just come here and see if my pannier is looped 
 properly," she said, giving that article a shake as she 
 
 looked in at the door. 
 
 
 
 Eliza came out of the room, grim as ever, and gave the 
 pannier a discontented jerk or two. 
 
 " Now what are you up to ? " she inquired, curtly, for she
 
 220 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 was sometimes a little scandalized at her younger sister's 
 coquettish airs. 
 
 "Never you mind, only tell me one thing, honest. Look 
 at me. Ain't I about as good looking as I ever was ? If I 
 am, tell them to wait till I come back." 
 
 "Don't ask me!" was the curt answer. "Of course 
 they'll wait, because they can't help it." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HEK OLD LOVER. 
 
 MARGARET CASEY called a cab, and ordering it to drive 
 to Morley's, Trafalgar Square, betook herself to rearranging 
 her toilet. She re-clasped a pair of heavy gold bracelets 
 around her wrists at any rate there was enough of gold in 
 them to make a dashing display and settled a splendid 
 shawl pin to her own infinite content, then she shook out 
 the folds of her dress, and settled down to serious medita- 
 tion. 
 
 Certainly she did not appear much older than when her 
 good looks had been a temptation to Matthew Stacy, which 
 came very near depriving Harriet, the cook, of her pompous 
 husband. Excitement had brought back the youthful color 
 to her face, and a spirit of benevolent mischief kindled all 
 the old coquettish fire in her eyes. Indeed, take her alto- 
 gether, the air of refinement, which she had obtained as a 
 lady's maid, and a certain style that she had, might well 
 have made Mrs. Matthew Stacy look about her when Mar- 
 garet came out in force, such as marked the dashing lady 
 who descended from that cab, just lifting her dress enough
 
 V 
 
 * 
 
 MAGGIE MEETS HER OLD LOVER. 221 
 
 to reveal glimpses of a high-heeled boot, and an ankle that 
 Matthew Stacy recognized in an instant, for nothing so trim 
 and dainty had ever helped make a footprint in his matri- 
 monial path, you may be sure. He was standing on the 
 steps at Morley's, with a white vest on and his heavy chain 
 glittering over it like a golden rivulet. 
 
 " What ! No ! yes ! On my soul I believe it is Miss 
 Maggie ! " cried the ex-alderman, stepping forward and 
 reaching out his hand. " Miss Casey, I am in ecstasies of 
 of in short, I am glad to see you." 
 
 Maggie bent till her pannier took the high Grecian curve 
 as she opened her parasol, then she gave him the tip end of 
 her gloved fingers, and said, with the sweetest lisp possible : 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Stacy ? It is ages and ages since 
 I have had the honor of meeting you. How is Mrs. Stacy 
 and the and the " 
 
 " Thank you a thousand times, Miss Casey ; but but in 
 short, Mrs. Stacy is the only person about whom you need 
 inquire. There was another forgive the outburst of a 
 father's feelings but a little grave in Greenwood, that 
 long, tells the mournful story/' 
 
 Here Alderman Stacy measured off a half yard or so of 
 space with his fat hands, but found the effort too much for 
 him, and drew forth his pocket handkerchief. 
 
 " Forgive me, but may you never know the feelings of a 
 father who who " 
 
 " How distressing ! " said Margaret, waving her head to 
 and fro, until her eyes settled on a window of the hotel. 
 
 " But do control yourself. I think that is Harriet I beg 
 pardon Mrs. Stacy, at the window, and your grief may re- 
 mind her of her loss." 
 
 " Mrs. Stacy ! Mrs. Stacy ! " faltered Matthew. " Miss 
 Maggie, would you have any objection to stepping a little 
 this way ? It is so unpleasant for a young lady of your
 
 222 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 refinement to stand directly in front of a hotel filled with 
 gentlemen. Beauty like yours is sure to bring them to the 
 windows in swarms, as one may observe, and I I have 
 enough of the old feeling left to he jealous, miserably jealous 
 when any man dares to look upon you." 
 
 " But I come to call on your wife, Mr. Stacy." 
 
 " She is not at home, I do assure you. She has been 
 shopping since since day before yesterday." 
 
 Margaret's eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Then, perhaps, I had better go up, and wait for her ? " 
 
 Margaret was bright, but even here her old lover proved 
 equal to the occasion. 
 
 " My dear Maggie excuse me, Miss Casey I do assure 
 you my lady has taken the parlor-key with her. She will be 
 so disappointed at not seeing you ! " 
 
 " It is unfortunate," said Maggie, playing with her para- 
 sol ; " because I was in hopes of having a few words with 
 you, and that would be improper, I fear, without her." 
 
 " My dear Miss Maggie, not at all not at all. You have 
 no idea of the quantities of women that prefer to see me 
 alone. Indeed, sometimes I think Mrs. Stacy is a little in 
 the way. Just walk quietly along, miss not before the 
 windows. Excuse my infirmity, but there are some feelings 
 that one never can throw off. Hold that elegant parasol 
 before that lovely face, and I will be with you in a twinkling. 
 The park is not far off. One moment, while I run up for 
 my cane." 
 
 Margaret allowed herself to be persuaded, for the last 
 thing in her mind had been to see Mrs. Stacy. Like those 
 other ladies Matthew had boasted of, she very much prefer- 
 red to see him alone, and would have been greatly annoyed 
 had Harriet, in fact, appeared at the window. 
 
 So, making a merit of her own wishes, she slanted her 
 parasol toward the house and sauntered down the street,
 
 MAGGIE MEETS HER OLD LOVER. 223 
 
 while Matthew ran up-stairs, panting for breath, and, enter- 
 ing his parlor, looked anxiously toward the window. 
 
 " Matthew, dear, is that you ?" 
 
 Matthew's foreboding heart revived. That mumbling 
 term of endearment, coming, as it were, though a mouthful 
 of cotton wool, reassured him. He stepped to the sleeping- 
 room door, and found Mrs. Stacy, with her head buried in 
 the pillows and her feet thumping restlessly on the quilt. 
 
 " What is the matter, my love ? " 
 
 " Oh, Stacy, dear, such a sudden take-down ! My old neu- 
 ralgia. Matthew ! Matthew ! don't leave me ! I feel as if 
 I was just a goin' ! " 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, dear. All you want is plenty of quiet. 
 A good, long sleep would bring you around in no time. 
 Just snuggle down in the pillows, and take yourself off to 
 sleep till I come back." 
 
 " Are you going ? and me like this ? Oh, Matthew ! " 
 
 "You can't feel it more than I do, Harriet, dear; but I 
 must go down to the bankers with this bill of exchange. 
 Ten thousand dollars isn't to be carried round in a man's 
 pocket safely. Besides, there is a special messenger just 
 come up from the bank; so I must go, you see. But it 
 breaks my heart to leave you so indeed it does !" 
 
 " Oh, if it's about money, I do not mind. That is a thing 
 which must be attended to. But Stacy, dear, don't let them 
 keep you long ; but go at onst, and right back." 
 
 " The moment those rich old fellows will let me off the 
 very moment, dear!" cried the model husband, waving his 
 hand airily toward the bed, and taking up both hat and 
 cane ; " so try and sleep."
 
 224 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 JUST FIFTY POUNDS. 
 
 MRS. STACY, thus reminded of her own needs, began to 
 moan softly among her pillows, and called out to the walls 
 and windows that she wished, if that pain was going to 
 keep on so, that she never had been born. If it wasn't 
 that she had the very test husband that ever drew breath, 
 she would just give up, and want to die ; but for his sake she 
 would try and worry through. 
 
 Stacy was far out of reach both of the moans and this 
 conjugal tribute to his goodness, for he had hastened to join 
 that bank messenger who, somehow, took the form of his 
 old sweetheart, and shaded him now and then with a 
 coquettish bend of her parasol. 
 
 " Found your cane," observed Maggie, glancing at the 
 ponderous gold-headed affair in the hand of her old lover. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; no trouble ; had just stood it up in a corner of 
 the parlor." 
 
 Maggie laughed a little nnder the cover of hei^parasol, 
 bnt kept a discreet silence about the locked door until she 
 was snugly seated in the park, with Stacy crowded close to 
 her side. 
 
 "Ah," he said, heaving a sigh that lifted the white vest 
 like a snow-bank, "this is something like happiness! If 
 you could only know what your haughtiness has driven me 
 to but it is no use trying to make you understand ! Look 
 at me, Miss Maggie ! Am I the same man that adored you 
 so? Don't answer. I am, I am, for Harriet, forgive me, 
 I love you yet I love you yet ! " 
 
 " But you left me, Mr. Stacy." 
 
 "Kather say the furies driv me. I wasn't myself. It
 
 JUPT FIFTY POUNDS. 225 
 
 was another fellow that woman married : the true man staid 
 with you, and here he is, just the same as ever, if you would 
 only believe it but you won't, you won't ! " 
 
 " How can I believe it, Mr. Stacy, after abandoning me 
 so?" 
 
 " But not till you driv me to it not till you had slapped 
 my face with that precious little hand." 
 
 " Mr. Stacy, I I'm glad you care for me a little, because 
 I want a great favor of you." 
 
 Stacy sat upright in the iron seat, and pulled down his 
 white vest with a couple of jerks. 
 
 " A favor, did you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, a great favor." 
 
 " And what may its natur be, Miss Maggie ? " 
 
 " Mr. Stacy, you are a rich man." 
 
 Stacy was troubled. To deny his wealth was a terrible 
 sacrifice of vanity to admit it might be exposing himself to 
 depredation. 
 
 " Well, yes," he said at last, " I am rich. No one in New 
 York would doubt that ; but over here one has such trouble 
 in getting funds, you understand. It was only this morning 
 Mrs. Stacy wanted money for a little shopping, as she called 
 it ; butTI couldn't give it to her upon my soul I couldn't." 
 
 " Then, it would be of no use to ask you for a loan of 
 twenty-five pounds, as I thought of doing." 
 
 " A loan of twenty-five pounds, my dear Maggie ! Five 
 hundred pounds would not be too much, if I were only in 
 New York ; but here in London, where Alderma-n Stacy is 
 not known, I could not raise even the miserable sum you 
 want I could not, indeed." 
 
 Maggie's .eyes beg^n to flash, for she understood the 
 meanness of this man, and despised it ; but she thought of 
 that anxious group in Olympia's parlor, and resolved to 
 have the money.
 
 226 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "Still, considering everything, I think you will try to 
 oblige me." 
 
 " Don't ask me. It wounds my manhood to refuse ; but 
 let us talk of something else those dear old times " 
 
 " No," said Margaret, unlocking one of her bracelets, 
 and closing it with a vicious snap. " If you cannot let me 
 have it, I will go to your wife." 
 
 "My wife? You go to my wife! Why, she hates you 
 like pison ! " 
 
 " And I am not very fond of her; but I want this money, 
 and she will have to give it me." 
 
 Stacy pulled down his vest again, and broke into a mellow 
 laugh. 
 
 " Well, I should like to see you try it on ! What would 
 you say to her, Maggie ? " 
 
 " I would say : Mrs. Matthew Stacy, you and I were 
 fellow-servants together in New York, where the lady was 
 murdered ; and for some days, you and I, and the person 
 you have married, were left in charge of all the valuable pro- 
 erty that house had in it. One of those nights I went away, 
 leaving everything in its place. W T hen I came back again 
 the wardrobes had been plundered, the bureaus broken open, 
 the wine-cellar pillaged." 
 
 Matthew Stacy had been growing crimson while Maggie 
 spoke. He put up a hand to his throat, as if something 
 were choking him, and tore open a button or two of his vest ; 
 then he gasped out : 
 
 " Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie, do you mean to insinuate 
 that I or my wife Harriet " 
 
 " I don't mean to insinuate anything,* because what I 
 say I know. You and your wife took these things. I knew 
 it at the time ; I can prove it now." 
 
 " Prove it fourteen years after ? " 
 
 " Some things do not wear out jewelry and Indja shaw's,
 
 JUST FIFTY POUNDS. 227 
 
 for instance. I was at the Opera not long since. My 
 sister, who used to come and visit me so often, is a little in 
 that line, and I used to show her all the shawls and splendid 
 dresses our mistress used to have. Well, that night at the 
 Opera we both saw your wife, sitting by you, with the best 
 shawl the madam had, on her own shouders. We knew it 
 at a glimpse. There isn't another just like it to be found in 
 England or America. That shawl, Matthew Stacy, is worth 
 thousands of dollars, and your wife, Harriet Long, the cook, 
 was wearing it." 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret Casey, you had better take care." 
 
 " I have taken care. This woman had a gold-mounted 
 opera-glass in her hand that we both can swear to. Besides 
 that, she had a little watch at her side, set thick with dia- 
 monds. That watch she took to a jeweller to be mended. 
 It is in his hands yet. When I leave this seat, it will be 
 my first business to make sure that she never gets the 
 watch again." 
 
 " But it is fourteen years time enough for anything to 
 be outlawed." 
 
 " I have asked about that. Crimes are not like debts 
 they cannot be outlawed, Mr. Stacy." 
 
 " And you could find it in your heart to hunt down an 
 old sweetheart like that, providing all you say is true ? I 
 wouldn't a believed it of you, Maggie." 
 
 " It seems to me that sweetheart just now refused to lend 
 me twenty-five pounds." 
 
 " Refused ! No, he did not refuse." 
 
 Matthew caught his breath, and changed his wheedling 
 tone all at once. A new idea had struck him. 
 
 " But, supposing what you say is true, there isn't any one 
 in England to prosecute " 
 
 " Yes, there is the lady's agent. He sat by you when we 
 first saw the shawl. Mr. Hepworth Gloss." 
 14
 
 228 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Matthew Stacy sprang to his feet, perfectly aghast. 
 
 "And you have told him ? " 
 
 " Not yet ; hut I mean to ! " 
 
 " You mean to " 
 
 "Yes, I do!" 
 
 " That is it that is it the self-same cretur that left the 
 print of her fingers on my cheek, and of herself on my 
 heart. It is her who wishes to cast me to the earth, and 
 have me stamped on by the law. Oh, Maggie Casey, 
 Maggie Casey, I wouldn't have believed it of you ! " 
 
 "And I wouldn't have believed you capable of refusing 
 me fifty pounds ! " 
 
 " Fifty pounds ! It was twenty-five, Miss Margaret." 
 
 " Yes ; but I've changed my mind. One does not want 
 to be refused a miserable sum like that. I've doubled it." 
 
 " But I did not refuse ; I only wanted to put the subject 
 off till we had talked of old times I didn't refuse you by 
 any manner of means. You hadn't told me anything about 
 yourself how you came here, and what you were doing, or 
 anything that an old lovyer's heart was panting to know." 
 
 " Well, I will tell you now. I have been, ever since that 
 time, in the family of a nobleman, as a sort of half servant, 
 half companion to his daughter." 
 
 " You don't say so ! Then what on earth can you want of * 
 twenty-five pounds ? " 
 
 "Fifty." 
 
 " Well, fifty it is, then. Between us, that was all I hesi- 
 tated about ; twenty-five pounds was such a pitiful sum for 
 you to ask of me. You didn't understand this noble feel- 
 ing, and almost threatened me ; but not quite, and I'm glad 
 of it, for Matthew Stacy is the last man on earth to give up 
 to a threat. I hope you will believe that, Miss Margaret." 
 
 " Fifty pounds ! " said Margaret, lifting a tuft of grass by 
 the roots with the point of her parasol.
 
 JUST FIFTY POUNDS. 
 
 "Did I dispute its being fifty? Certainly not. Now 
 just say how you will take it in gold or Bank of England 
 notes ? " 
 
 " Notes will do." 
 
 " I'm glad you said that, because I happen to have the 
 notes about me," answered the alderman, drawing out a ple- 
 thoric note-case, and counting the money with terrible 
 reluctance. " Here we are ; just the sum. Now tell me, 
 were you really in earnest about its being fifty? " 
 
 " Just fifty," answered Margaret, counting the money on 
 her lap; "just fifty." 
 
 Matthew heaved a grievous sigh, and stood up. 
 
 "Now I suppose that little affair is settled forever?" 
 he said, working both hands about the head of his cane, 
 while he eyed the girl askance. 
 
 "I said fifty pounds, and fifty pounds it is," answered 
 Margaret. " Now let us be going." 
 
 " But you mean to act fair ? " 
 
 " I mean to act fair, and return your money." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean that, I don't want that ! It was the 
 other affair; you could not do anything so cruel." 
 
 Margaret turned short round and faced the stout man, 
 who was trembling, abjectly, from head to foot. 
 
 "Mr. Stacy, I have kept silent fifteen years and rather 
 over. If I have not spoken before, you may be certain I 
 never shall. I wanted this money very much, indeed, and 
 shall repay it with less thankfulness because of the mean 
 way in which I forced it from you. Your wife may wear 
 her shawl and watch to the end, for any harm I mean her. 
 Good morning, Mr. Stacy." 
 
 Stacy stood just as she left him, thrusting his cane into 
 the turf. 
 
 " And she wouldn't have done it after all. What a con- 
 founded fool I have made of myself! Two hundred and
 
 230 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 fifty dollars, and gold up to one-forty at home, which makes 
 another clean hundred. What a mercy it is she didn't ask 
 a thousand, though ! She took the starch out of me, 
 through and through. I should have handed over any- 
 thing she asked." 
 
 As Stacy was walking from the park, now and then giv- 
 ing a punch to the turf with his cane, in discontented ab- 
 straction, he nearly ran against a man who had just passed 
 the gate, and, looking up angrily, saw Hepworth Closa. 
 The poor craven turned white as he saw that face ; but 
 Hepworth was in haste, and took no heed of his agitation. 
 
 " You are just the man I most wanted," he said. 
 
 " What what me ? Is it me you wanted ? " stammer- 
 ed Stacy, smitten with abject terror. 
 
 " Yes ; you are an American, and will understand the 
 value of American bonds." 
 
 " American bonds ! Surely, Mr. Closs, you will at least 
 give me a chance of bail? I tell you it is all false ! That 
 creature isn't to be believed under oath." 
 
 " I have no idea what you mean," said Closs, a good deal 
 puzzled ; " but you evidently do not understand me. I 
 am about to leave England, and have a monied trust to 
 settle before I go. There is a reason why it is inexpedi- 
 ent for me to act in person. I wish to pay the money, but 
 give no explanation. Will you act as my agent in this ? " 
 
 " Is is it that estate you are just settling up ? " asked 
 Stacy, below his breath, for he felt as if the earth were 
 about to swallow him. " Is it that ? " 
 
 " I can give you no explanation. This money came into 
 my hands years ago. I invested it carefully doubled it 
 over and over again ; but now I wish to give up my trust. 
 I have it here in American bonds, fifty thousand dollars." 
 
 " Fifty thousand ! " 
 
 " Just that. I wish you to take this to the young lady,
 
 JUST FIFTY POUNDS. 231 
 
 to whom it rightfully belongs, and place it in her own 
 hands, with the simple statement that it is hers. Will you 
 oblige me in this ? " 
 
 " First tell me who the young lady is." 
 
 " Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope, of Oakhurst." 
 
 " The daughter of a lord ! My dear sir, I shall be too 
 happy ! " 
 
 " But there is a condition. I do not wish the lady to 
 guess where this money comes from. You must be under- 
 stood as the agent, who has invested and increased it from a 
 small property left in New York by a relative. This will 
 work you no harm, but, on the contrary, win for you favor 
 and gratitude from as noble a lady as ever lived." 
 
 " Will it get an invitation to Oakhurst for myself and 
 Mrs. Stacy? That is a thing I should like to mention 
 incidentally, to the Board of Aldermen when they give me 
 a public reception in the Governor's Room. Will it bring 
 about something of that kind?" 
 
 "That I cannot tell. The young lady is not now at 
 Oakhurst, but with her grandmother, at Houghton Castle. 
 It is there you will find her." 
 
 " Houghton Castle ! Why, that's the place I saw men- 
 tioned in the Court Journal. There is to be tremendous 
 doings at Houghton Castle before long ; a grand entertain- 
 ment, to which all the grandees, far and near, are invited. 
 What if this fifty thousand dollars should get me and Mrs. 
 S. an invite ? That would be a crusher." 
 
 "It is possible," said Closs, controlling the fierce beating 
 of his heart. "Come to my hotel in the morning, early. 
 I am anxious to get this trust off my mind." 
 
 Stacy promised, and the two men parted, the one elated, 
 the other doubtful, harassed, and painfully disappointed; 
 but the very next day after Matthew Stacy left London for
 
 232 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Houghton, Hepworth Gloss received a letter, which put all 
 ideas of a voyage to America out of his mind. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. 
 
 OLYMPIA stood, panic-stricken, in her fantastic little bou- 
 doir, when she reached home and found a note from Caro- 
 line, bidding her farewell, and stating that, not being able 
 to comply with her wishes, she had accepted the other alter- 
 native, and left her house forever, in company with her 
 father and the old servant, who had been so faithful to her. 
 The note breathed of sadness and sorrow at the manner of 
 her leaving, and, if firm, was entirely respectful ; but it 
 said nothing of her plans, nor told where she was going. 
 
 Now, Olympia thought that she had provided against the 
 possibility of a choice between her cruel commands, by de- 
 priving both Caroline and her father of all means by which 
 they could leave her. She had gone out, certain of the 
 girl's forced submission, and came back to find her gone. 
 She crushed the note in her hand, flung it down and stamp- 
 ed upon it furiously ; for it seemed as if half a million of gold 
 had melted down into the bit of paper, which she could only 
 trample under her feet in impotent wrath. 
 
 " The viper ! the ingrate ! the thing made of iron ! Oh, 
 if it were her! if it were her! I would trample her through 
 the floor ! Where did she get the money? He had nothing 
 she had nothing. I thought I had chained them to me by 
 their poverty ; then I came home, so exhilarated by this 
 great offer from the manager and she is gone ! So beauti- 
 ful ! and such a voice ! Gone ! gone ! Oh, what a loss ! "
 
 OLTMPIA'S DEFEAT. 233 
 
 
 
 Here Olympia, who had never know what self-control was, 
 flung herself on a low, silken couch, heaped with cushions, 
 like a divan, and began to pound them with her little fists, 
 and spurn them with the soiled white satin slippers, in 
 which she had been to rehearsal. This burst of hysterical 
 fury would have brought down the house had she plunged 
 into such naturalness on the stage. But she started up, and 
 after snatching a mosaic card-receiver from her footman, and 
 dashing it against a marble statuette of Venus coming from 
 the bath, thus demolishing what little drapery the poor thing 
 was trying to make the most of, came partially to herself 
 and demanded what the fellow wanted. 
 
 The footman, shivering under his blue and silver, pointed 
 to a card which lay on the carpet. 
 
 "Why don't you pick it up ?" cried Olympia, stamping 
 her satin slipper into a cluster of roses, that seemed to disap- 
 pear from the carpet. 
 
 The man took up the card and handed it to her, with a 
 reverence so humble that she longed to trample him down 
 with the mock roses, and get him out of her sight; but, as 
 he towered above her a foot or two, the process seemed diffi- 
 cult, so she ordered him out of the room, and looked at the 
 card. 
 
 " Lord Hilton ! Dear me ! " 
 
 Olympia made a dash through the silken curtains, ran 
 into the hall, just as Lord Hilton was leaving the door-step, 
 and called him back. 
 
 He followed her into the boudoir, telling her the reason of 
 his visit as he went. 
 
 This inflamed her anew, and she turned upon him sav- 
 agely, but \Yith some attempt at self-restraint. 
 
 "You wished to see Caroline? the ingrate ! the viper! 
 the raven, with a nightingale's voice! You wish to see
 
 234 THE ^.LD COUNTESS. 
 
 her? Why? This is singular. I thought she was a 
 stranger to you. No ! Then, where did you meet? " 
 
 " I have seen the young lady frequently in Italy. Will 
 you please to have her informed that I am here? " 
 
 " Informed I ! Well, my lord, this is droll ! No such 
 person is in my house. I could no longer tolerate her. 
 She is gone." 
 
 " What ! Your daughter ? " 
 
 " My daughter ! Did I ever say that ? Ah, I remember 
 it was after one of our little suppers, when one gets liberal ! 
 But this ingrate was no daughter of mine, but my protege 
 something to fasten the heart on, as one loves a Skye ter- 
 rier. Her father was a poor man very poor, almost 
 degraded, you understand so, in my unfortunate munifi- 
 cence, I lifted her out of her poverty, gave her some of my 
 own genius, and took her to my bosom, as Cleopatra took 
 the asp ; and she stung me, just in the same waj T , villain- 
 ous ingrate! This girl has treated me shamefully. I had 
 made such an engagement for her such concessions car- 
 riage for herself, dressing-maid always in attendance, a 
 boudoir for her retirement, private box, everything that a 
 princess might ask ; bills almost made out, and when I 
 come home, she is gone. Head that note, my lord ; it lies 
 there at your feet. Read it, and tell me if you ever heard 
 of such base ingratitude." 
 
 Lord Hilton took up the crumpled and trodden paper. 
 His eyes eagerly ran over its contents, and brightened as 
 they read ; while Olympia prowled around her boudoir, like 
 a newly-caged leopardess. 
 
 "Read! read!" she said, "and then say if anything so 
 ungrateful ever lived. No, no, my lord, she is no child of 
 mine. I wash my hands of her I wash my hands of 
 her!" 
 
 Here Olympia laved her white hands in the air, and went 

 
 OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. 235 
 
 through a process of dry washing in the heat of her prome- 
 nade up and down the room. 
 
 "And have you no idea where the young lady has 
 gone ? " 
 
 "An idea! How should I have ideas? You have read 
 her letter. Well, that is all." 
 
 Lord Hilton folded the note, and softly closed his hand 
 over it. 
 
 "Then I will no longer trouble you, madam," he said, 
 holding back the curtain, while he bowed himself through 
 the entrance. 
 
 Olympia watched the crimson curtains close over him, 
 standing, with some effort at self-control, in the middle of 
 the room. Then she broke into a fresh paroxysm, shattered 
 a few more ornaments by way of appeasing her appetite for 
 destruction, and plunged down among her cushions in a fit 
 of shrieking hysterics that brought the whole household 
 around her. 
 
 A knock at the door another visitor brought Olympia 
 out of her fit, and turned her general rage into spite. 
 
 "Show them in show everybody in! If they want to 
 see how I bear it, let the whole world come ! " she cried, 
 spreading her hands abroad. 
 
 The man who went to the door obeyed her, and brought 
 in an old woman, whose anxious, tired face might have won 
 sympathy from a stone. She entered that glittering room 
 without excitement or any appearance of curiosity, and 
 when Olympia, in coarse and spiteful irony, bade her sit 
 down in one of the easy-chairs, she took it quietly. 
 
 " There is a young lady staying with you, madam, that I 
 wish to see. I think-she is known by the name of Brown." 
 
 "Brown? Brown? There is no such person here. 
 How dare you come troubling me about her, the ingrate, 
 the asp, the the "
 
 236 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " It may be that the young lady may still be called 
 Yates. She bore that name once." 
 
 "Yates? Brown? Brown? Yates? I know nothing 
 about them. Don't go on in that fashion, questioning; for 
 I won't hear it! Who are you that dares come here with 
 such names? I do not keep a lodging-house. I am 
 Olympia ! :) 
 
 " But there was a young lad} 7 here the one I wish to 
 see," said the old woman, with calm persistence. 
 
 "Well, and if there was ? " 
 
 " I have very urgent reasons for wishing to find her." 
 
 "Well, perhaps you will, who knows? Needles have 
 been found in haymows, but I wasn't the person to pick 
 them up, and it strikes me that you won't be more fortu- 
 nate." 
 
 " But I must see this lady ! " 
 
 " If you can find her, certainly ; but she is not here, and 
 never is likely to be again the wretch the viper!" 
 
 "When did she leave here, madam?" 
 
 "When when? What is that to you? Am I come to 
 the pass that I cannot turn a viper into the street without 
 being questioned by every old tramp that prowls about? 
 I tell you the creature you call Brown " 
 
 "Caroline Brown," said the old lady, gently. 
 
 "Well, the creature you call Caroline Brown, then, has 
 gone from my house forever. I neither know nor care what 
 has become of her." 
 
 The old woman arose, and walked close to Olympia. 
 
 "You have forgotten me, Olive Brown. It is a long 
 time since you brought that helpless little child to me." 
 
 Olympia turned white, and, turning, fiercely ordered the 
 servants from the room. 
 
 " Who are you ? What are you ? " she'faltered. " What
 
 OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. 237 
 
 tempted you to call me by that name, and they standing 
 by?" 
 
 " I am named Yates. Years ago you brought a child for 
 me to care for." 
 
 " Oh, it is the child again ! I tell you, on my honor, she 
 has left my house, I do not know where she has gone." 
 
 "Are you certain, madam? " 
 
 " Certain ! Yes yes. She left my house only this 
 morning." 
 
 " Then I will go in search of her. Will this never 
 end?" sighed Hannah Yates. 
 
 "Stop! stop!" cried Olympia. "Promise to say no- 
 thing of that name. Promise!" 
 
 " I am only wanting to find the young lady not to 
 harm any one. 
 
 " But it would harm me if you told that. Brown ! 
 Brown ! Think of Brown for a stage name ! Can't you 
 understand that it would be death to me ? Half my popu- 
 larity lies in the fact that no one can tell who or what I 
 am. Now, do be silent, that is a good old soul, if it is only 
 for her sake ; for you know, in spite of the way she has 
 served me, everything I have or make will go to my child 
 in the end. I am ready to make it worth your while to be 
 quiet." 
 
 Here Olympia took out a portemonnaie and unclasped it. 
 The old woman put the glittering thing aside with her 
 hand. 
 
 " I do not take money," she said. "All I want is to find 
 her. If she is gone, I must search farther." 
 
 Then, with a meek bend of the head, Mrs. Yates left the 
 room and the house. 
 
 Lord Hilton went out of that house, relieved by the
 
 238 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 denial of Olympia that Caroline was her daughter, but in 
 other respects cruelly disappointed. The greatest and most 
 generous wish of his life was to find the young girl, and atone 
 for the cowardice which had made him avoid her for a time. 
 He had resolved that the fact that she was Olympia's child 
 should not prevent him acting this manly part; but when 
 that degradation was lifted from her by the woman's own 
 words, his heart was set free from an intolerable weight, 
 and went back to its old love with a happy rebound. He 
 remained in London some days, spending the time in vain 
 efforts to learn something of the beautiful fugitive, and 
 then started back to the neighborhood of Houghton Castle, 
 bitterly disappointed. 
 
 For some distance, after he entered the railroad carriage, 
 Lord Hilton was alone ; but at the junction, where he had 
 formerly met Lady Clara and her maid, a gentleman and 
 lady entered the carriage, and sat down opposite him. 
 There was something singular about the lady; her large, 
 black eyes illumined the whole face with a glow of proud 
 triumph that seemed to have uplifted her whole being. It 
 was this brilliant seeming of happiness which at first baffled 
 Lord Hilton ; for after the lady had been seated awhile, she 
 probably began to feel the restraints of a stranger's pres- 
 ence, for a fit of thoughtful lassitude crept over her, and 
 her eyelids began to droop. 
 
 He remembered the face, now. One night he had seen 
 it at the opera, leaning against the crimson lining of the 
 box, paler by far than now ; but the beautiful outlines were 
 the same, though that face had been still and passive, while 
 this was irradiated even in its rest. 
 
 Turning his face from the lady, Lord Hilton encountered 
 a face that he knew in the tall and distinguished-looking 
 man who accompanied her.
 
 DEFEAT. 239 
 
 " Lord Hope, this is a pleasure," he said, holding out his 
 hand. "The last I heard of you was in Scotland." 
 
 "Yes, we found the shooting good, and staid longer than, 
 usual ; but I fancied you were down at the old place." 
 
 " And so I was, but these railways send a man from one 
 end of the universe to another so rapidly that one does not 
 know where to date from. I have been up to London for a 
 day or two, and am on my way back again." 
 
 Here Lady Hope lifted her slumberous eyelids, and was 
 introduced. 
 
 The sweet, alluring smile that we have seen on the face 
 of Rachael Gloss had come back to it now. 
 
 " I should almost have known Lord Hilton," she -said, 
 " from Lady Clara's description. She was indeed fortunate 
 in chancing upon you for a travelling companion." 
 
 " I have that great kindness to thank you for, Hilton," 
 said Lord Hope. " Clara's letters were full of your adven- 
 tures on the road and at Houghton. I did not know that 
 you had left the neighborhood, though." 
 
 "I think myself more than fortunate," said Hilton, ad- 
 dressing Lady Hope," " in having the honor of introducing 
 two such ladies to the castle, for I take it you are going to 
 Houghton." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course ; it was impossible to refuse Lady 
 Carset. We shall be at the castle some time, I am glad to 
 say." 
 
 How her magnificent eyes flashed. The very bend of 
 her head was regal, as she thus announced a triumph she 
 had been toiling for ever since she had become Lord Hope's 
 wife. 
 
 The scorn of that old woman at Houghton, had been the 
 bane of her existence. Like an interdict of the Pope in 
 olden time?, it had kept her apart from the people of her 
 own rank, as an excommunication would have done in past
 
 240 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 ages. But all this was removed. As it would seem by a 
 miracle, the bitter prejudices of that old lady had given 
 way, and through the broad doors of Houghton Castle, she 
 was invited to take her place among the peeresses of the 
 land. 
 
 This had brought back the fire and bloom into Lady 
 Hope's life, and when Lord Hilton leaned out, as he had 
 done with Lady Clara, and exclaimed, " There is Hough- 
 a glorious smile broke over her features. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON. 
 
 THE train which took Caroline and her party down to 
 Houghton, reached their destination just as the sun was 
 setting over the glorious old trees of the park, and trem- 
 bling in golden brightness in the ivy that clung to those 
 twin towers. 
 
 Scarcely had they left the train, when a basket-carriage 
 came dashing up to the platform, and a young lady sprang 
 out, tossing her reins to a dainty little tiger, who sat 
 behind, erect and decorous, knowing himself to be an object 
 of general attention. 
 
 " So you are really here. I am so glad to find you ! All 
 right, this way jump in ; don't be afraid, the ponies are 
 gentle as gentle can be. Here we are, never mind the 
 others. There is a carriage on the way for them ; but, of 
 course, I got here first ; always do. Give me the reins, Joe 
 now for it." 
 
 The little carriage wheeled around, and Lady Clara
 
 THE FAMILY MEETING. 241 
 
 looked back, nodding to Brown, as her ponies took the road 
 in full speed. 
 
 "Nice old fellow, isn't he? I am so glad to get him 
 here, for I am going back on my music terribly." 
 
 " Did you know he is my father ? " said Caroline, in a 
 gentle voice. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " He is, indeed. I never learned it till yesterday ; but it 
 does not seem strange, for no father was ever more gentle or 
 kind than he has been since the first day I knew him." 
 
 "And Olympia she is your mother, uo doubt?" 
 
 " Yes ; she is my mother." 
 
 "All right, we needn't talk of her! it isn't of the least 
 consequence. You must not speak so sadly. I dare say 
 she is a good enough person ; but you don't know bow to 
 manage her. For my part, I rather like her ; but the old 
 gentleman is just lovely ! I am glad he is your father ; 
 because he can take care of us so properly, and grand- 
 mamma will like it, I know. I have got you a chamber 
 next to mine. Our dressing-rooms open into each other, 
 and they are both near grandmamma's apartments. Dear 
 old lady, she is just the kindest, sweetest, loveliest mite of 
 a woman you ever saw; like a darling old fairy. Won't 
 you love her ? " 
 
 They drove along now for some distance in silence ; but 
 as they mounted to the uplands, where Houghton stood, 
 Caroline began to take a lively interest in the scenery, 
 which was both grand and beautiful in that region. Away 
 toward the horizon, at the upper end of the valley, was 
 some large building, whose gray walls and oriel windows 
 were just now burning in the golden fires of a magnificent 
 sunset. 
 
 "What place is that?" said Clara, repeating the ques- 
 tion her companion had asked, " Oh, that is Keath Hall,
 
 242 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 and may some day belong to Lord Hilton, a friend of ours." 
 
 Caroline felt her breath taken away, she had no power 
 to speak, while Lady Clara sat smiling pleasantly to her- 
 self. The poor girl felt like springing out of the carriage, 
 and fleeing to the uttermost parts of the earth, rather than 
 be in the neighborhood with a man who had scorned her so. 
 
 " Lord Hilton is not there now," said Clara, with the 
 innocent quietness of a kitten; "something has taken him 
 to London or Italy, I believe ; but he is very pleasant, and 
 I like him well enough to be sorry about his going." 
 
 Caroline breathed again ; but her face was very sorrow- 
 ful and her heart heavy, during the rest of the drive. 
 
 The size and splendor of that vast building almost terri- 
 fied the girl, who had been brought up in that little cedar 
 cottage. She gave no indication of this in her mnnner, 
 but walked by the side of her friend through that spacious 
 hall, with its bronze statues, suits of armor and bossed 
 shields, as if no meaner roof had ever sheltered her. 
 
 " Come," said Clara, as the j'oung traveller took off her 
 tiny hat, and began to smooth the hair back from her tem- 
 ples. " I am so impatient to have grandmamma see you. 
 That will do that will do. Come, now." 
 
 The two girls went out together, Clara leading the way, 
 and directly stood in the dim light of Lady Carset's cham- 
 ber. 
 
 " Grandmamma, I have brought my friend to pay her 
 respects," said Clara ; " only to pay her respects, for, of 
 course, she is famished ; but I felt how glad you would be, 
 and brought her direct!}' up here." 
 
 The old countess arose from her chair, and came forward 
 holding out her hand. She did, indeed, seem like a fairy 
 godmother, with that soft lace quivering over her snow- 
 white hair, and those great diamonds blazing on her tiny 
 hands.
 
 THE FAMILY MEETING. 243 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Miss Miss " 
 
 " Miss Brown, grandmamma." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! well, I am very glad to welcome you, Miss 
 Brown. They tell me you have a fine voice. I should like 
 to hear it some day, when you are not tired." 
 
 " If my voice will give you pleasure, lady, I shall, for 
 the first time iu my life, be grateful for it," said Caroline, 
 so impressed by this sweet old lady's kindness, that she 
 longed to throw both arms about her. 
 
 "What, what? I did not hear distinctly. Oh, it is the 
 voice they tell me of, which thrills the heart with its sweet- 
 ness ; was not that what you said of it, Clara ? No won- 
 der people like it. I do." 
 
 The old lady still held Caroline's hand her delicate fin- 
 gers clung to it, with the loving tenacity of a child. She 
 looked up to the beautiful face with eager, wistful curiosity ; 
 but the light always came dimly into that chamber, and ita 
 rich draperies of lace and brocade threw their shadows over 
 Caroline ; besides, those old eyes were dim with age, or she 
 might have been troubled that such dangerous beauty 
 should come into her house in the form of a dependant. 
 As it was, she allowed the two girls to depart, without 
 dreaming that a more beautiful woman than her grandchild 
 had almost been put upon a level with her. 
 
 Two or three days after this, Lord and Lady Hope arrived 
 at the castle, and the old countess, for the first time, saw the 
 woman who wore the coronet which had once belonged to 
 her child. It was beautiful to see that proud lady for 
 now you could decide that she had been very proud pre- 
 paring herself to receive this woman, whom she had hated 
 and wronged- so grievously. She stood up in her tower- 
 room when Rachael entered it, her black satin dress trail- 
 ing far out upon the floor, the yellow old lace fastened ovef 
 15
 
 244 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 her bosom with a cluster of diamonds, and a bankerchief of 
 delicate lace in her band. 
 
 There was a little more motion of the head than usual, 
 and that was all the evidence she gave of extraordinary 
 emotion. 
 
 Lady Hope came to the door, leaning on the arm of her 
 husband ; but, on the threshold, she abandoned his support, 
 and came forward by his side, apparently calm and self-pos- 
 sessed ; but a proud fire shone in those black eyes, which 
 would not be quenched. 
 
 "I have sent for you, Lady Hope, because I thought that 
 the most open and honorable way of acknowledging the 
 wrong I have done you, and of asking j r our forgiveness." 
 
 The old countess folded her arms over her bosom, and 
 bent, in her proud humility, before that beautiful woman 
 whom she could never, never love. 
 
 Rachael Gloss forced back the triumph that swelled 
 haughtily in her bosom, for the old lady's acknowledgment 
 fired her heart like burning incense ; but she bowed her 
 head, as if she had committed the fault, and turning to her 
 husband, appealed to him : 
 
 " I cannot I have no language in which to say how this 
 kindness overwhelms me. Pray tell her from this hour I 
 forget that she has not always thought so kindly of me as I 
 have deserved." 
 
 Lord Hope was greatly agitated. The keen e}-es of that 
 old lady, as they turned upon his face, troubled him. His 
 very lips were white as he attempted to open them, not to 
 utter the elegant speech suggested by his. wife, for his heart 
 eeemed to break forth in a single sentence : 
 
 ^ Countess, have the justice to blame me if any wrong 
 has been done to you or yours. As for this lady, no more 
 devoted mother ever liyed than she has been to your daugh- 
 ter's child 1"
 
 THE FAMILY MEETING. 245 
 
 A burst of sobs arose from the other side of the room, and 
 Lady Clara came forward, her face wet with tears, her 
 mouth quivering. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed she has ! Oh, grandmamma, do love 
 her, because she has been so good to me and everybody 
 else ! " 
 
 Lady Carset reached forth her hand gently, and with 
 delicate cordiality; but there was no yearning of the heart 
 there, such as had marked her reception of that young girl. 
 
 Lady Hope cared very little for this. She had attained 
 the great aim of her life in this recognition ; anything like 
 warmth of affection would have been as irksome to her as it 
 was impossible to the old countess. She took the little 
 hand, pressed her lips upon it, and retreated from the room, 
 keeping her face toward the old lady, as if she were retiring 
 from the presence of a queen. 
 
 The old countess stood up bravely, and bent her delicate 
 person with the exquisite grace of a lady of the olden time, 
 as her guests disappeared. The moment they were gone 
 she turned to seek her couch ; but her limbs lost their 
 strength, her feet became entangled in the satin train, and 
 she would have fallen to the carpet but for Lady Clara, 
 who sprang forward and held her up. 
 
 " Dear me, how you tremble ! Oh, grandmamma, don't ! 
 I never saw you cry before. It breaks my heart ! " 
 
 The poor old la'dy was trembling in all her limbs, and 
 crying like a child. It had been a hard cross for her fee- 
 bleness to take up when she admitted that man and woman 
 to her presence. It seemed as if her own dead child had 
 stood between them, and with shadowy arms striven to 
 push them apart. 
 
 " I have done no more than my duty,'' she said, with a 
 piteous smiie. " It was hard, very hard. Still a Carset
 
 246 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 must not allow any wrong to go unatoned for, and about 
 those diamonds I did wrong her." 
 
 Clara did not speak. She was frightened by the agita- 
 tion into which this scene had thrown the old lady, and only 
 besought her to rest ; but strong, nervous excitement is not 
 so easily pacified. The countess conquered her tears, but the 
 couch shook under her nervous trembling. Then Clara ran 
 to her own apartments, and came back to an adjoining 
 room with Caroline, whose voice had a power of soothing 
 which even excitement could not resist. 
 
 " Begin to sing something low and sweet," she whis- 
 pered. " I will leave the door ajar." 
 
 Then Clara stole back to her grandmother, and directly a 
 soft strain of music stole into the room, almost unnoticed at 
 first, like the perfume of flowers, but growing into harmo- 
 nies so fall and swelling, that the whole atmosphere seemed 
 flooded with it. 
 
 The old countess listened ; the faint breath paused upon 
 her lips, her eyelids began to quiver, and her little withered 
 hands stole up to her bosom and rested there in a tremulous 
 clasp. 
 
 " It is a heavenly voice. My child is not angry with me. 
 Oh ! how sweetly she tells me so ! how sweet how sweet !" 
 
 And so she fell asleep after awhile all the trembling 
 gone, all the pain swept from those delicate features. Then 
 Caroline came in aud sat down by Lady Clara, smiling over 
 the gentle work she had done. The old lady opened her 
 eyes once, anil, reaching out her hand to Caroline, who sat 
 nearest, murmured ; 
 
 " You are not offended with me, child ?." 
 
 " She takes you for me," whispered Clara, " and is 
 dreaming, I think. Let us be very still." 
 
 So the two girls sat together, and guarded the gentle 
 slumber into which the old countess had fallen, with loving
 
 DOWN AMONG THE FEENS AGAIN. 247 
 
 solicitude. She seemed to feel their loving presence even 
 in sleep, for a heavenly smile stole over her face, and occa- 
 sionally she whispered as if answering some pleasant voice 
 that came stealing through her dreams. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. 
 
 LADY CARSET had extended numerous invitations to her 
 old friends, and it was understood that Lady Hope would 
 represent the head of the house and do the honors. This 
 compliment was partly in atonement for the wrong that had 
 been done Kachael Gloss, and partly from the infirmities of 
 extreme old age, which rendered it even dangerous for the 
 old countess to entertain her guests in person. 
 
 For the first time in her life, Lady Hope was in her true 
 element. The weight of an intolerable restraint had been 
 lifted from her. She was mistress of one of the most 
 splendid establishments in all England, not even for a time, 
 for would it not descend unbroken to a step-daughter who 
 worshipped her? Was not the will which settled this 
 already made, and she as good as mistress there during her 
 whole life ? She had thought Oakhurst a noble possession, 
 but it dwindled into insignificance when compared with the 
 splendor of Houghton Castle. Very seldom in the world 
 had the ambition of an aspiring woman been so suddenly 
 and completely gratified. It bad been all like a dream to 
 her, but now she felf the reality, with an exultation of 
 spirit that took ten years from her person, and a weird 
 burden from her heart. This great happiness sprang out 
 of two grand passions love and ambition.
 
 248 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 The first was gratified in this Lord Hope was a 
 changed man a shadow had been swept from his path 
 hidden shame had changed to unchecked pride. The 
 woman he had married, because of an overpowering love, 
 was now in a position to fascinate society with her beauty, 
 and win its homage with her genius. They had come out 
 from the shadow and were in the broad sunshine. 
 
 All his old fondness returned ; she could tell it by the 
 elasticity of his step, by the proud uplifting of his head, by 
 the very tones of his voice. 
 
 She had thirsted for greatness, and it was hers. She had 
 pined for the old love, and it had come back to her. No 
 wo-nder the carriage of this woman was lofty, and her voice 
 full of music. Ifo wonder that the rich coloring of her 
 youth returned, and her eyes took back their velvety 
 softness. 
 
 At this period Rachael Gloss was at the pinnacle of her 
 hopes. She could scarcely understand that this lofty posi- 
 tion had not always belonged to her. To dispense almost 
 regal hospitality came to her as the most natural thing on 
 earth, and as each day brought some noble guest to the 
 castle, she received them with mofe finished grace and a 
 deeper consciousness of power. 
 
 Of course, at this time, Lady Clara was most frequently 
 with her stepmother, for the old countess would have it so, 
 and Caroline took her place very frequently in the tower 
 room, where she felt herself to be more than welcome. 
 Indeed, the old lady seemed almost as fond of her as she 
 was of the bright, generous heiress. Caroline would not 
 consent to mingle with the gay crowd which kept up a 
 brilliant carnival all day long in the park, in the vast 
 drawing-room, everywhere, except in that one old tower 
 where the countess spent her quiet life. At the grand fes- 
 tival she had resolved to come forth and do the honors of
 
 DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. 249 
 
 her own castle, but until then she contented herself by 
 receiving her guests, and then pleasantly turning them 
 over to the splendid woman who filled her place with such 
 consummate abilit}'. 
 
 This arrangement threw Caroline almost constantly into 
 the seclusion of the tower apartments, and it so chanced 
 that she had not once met Lady Hope, who was, in fact, 
 unconscious of her presence in the castle. 
 
 Clara remembered, with some trepidation, the rebuke 
 which had been given her, regarding her liking for this girl, 
 and, not caring to provoke a repetition, did not mention the 
 fact of her residence at Houghton. Thus it chanced that 
 neither Lord Hope or his wife knew of the independent 
 step their daughter had taken. 
 
 Lady Clara had evidently something on her mind one 
 day, for she gave up a ride to the hunt, a thing she had set 
 her heart upon, and came after Caroline to take a long walk 
 in the park with her. Caroline went gladly, for her heart 
 was aching under its broken hopes, and as the excitement 
 connected with her new home died out, a sense of bereave- 
 ment and desolation came back. She was, indeed, very 
 wretched, and Lady Clara saw it. Perhaps this was the 
 reason she took her proteg^ out for that pleasant walk in 
 the park. 
 
 When the two girls reached that hollow through which 
 the brook ran, and where the ferns grew, Clara became sud- 
 denly conscious that Caroline must be tired. 
 
 Perhaps she was. Caroline, in her listlessness, did not 
 care to ask herself about it, but sat down on a fragment of 
 rock, as Clara directed her, and fell to watching the brook 
 with her sad eyes, as it crept through the ferns and gurgled 
 over the pebbles at her feet. 
 
 Meantime Clara had wandered quietly up the hollow, and 
 disappeared in search of something which grew a little way
 
 250 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 off, she said. So Caroline was not to move till she came 
 back, unless she wished to be lost utterly. 
 
 Caroline liked the solitude, and the cool ripple of the 
 brook soothed her. She was rather sorry when a footstep 
 on the forest turf heralded the return of her friend; but she 
 looked up with a welcoming smile, and saw Lord Hilton, 
 her Italian teacher the man who had told her more than 
 once that he loved her better than his own life ! 
 
 She did not cry out, or rise from her hard seat, but sat 
 still, looking at him in mournful quietness. What was he, 
 what could he ever be, to her? A nobleman of the realm, 
 and the Olympia's daughter ! 
 
 He came down the bank and seated himself by her side. 
 
 " Caroline, have you no welcome to give me ? " 
 
 She looked at him with a gleam of excitement in the sad- 
 ness of her eyes. 
 
 " You know who I am, and I, alas ! know that you are 
 Lord Hilton," she said, with a touch of pathetic pride. 
 " How can I welcome you ? " 
 
 " Have you, then, ceased to love me, Caroline ? " 
 
 Her pale face flushed, her eyes kindled. 
 
 " Is this a question to ask me ? " 
 
 " Yes because I have never ceased to love you, and 
 never shall." 
 
 " Not when you are certain that I am the daughter of 
 of an actress ? " 
 
 " Not if you were the daughter of fifty actresses, Caro- 
 line ! I have been searching for you, in London, every- 
 where. More than once I inquired at Olympia's door." 
 
 " You ! " 
 
 " Indeed I did ; but she would give me no information." 
 
 " She could not. I left no word." 
 
 " And now that I have found }*ou, Caroline ? " 
 
 "My name is Brown, Lord Hilton. I am, in truth, the
 
 DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. 251 
 
 daughter of that good man whom you supposed my father." 
 
 "And of Olympia ? " 
 
 "Yes, they were married and and divorced before she 
 became celebrated and took the name of Olympia." 
 
 Caroline said all this with a feeling of self-torture that 
 took all the color from her face. The love of Lord Hilton 
 seemed an impossibility to her, and she gave him the hard 
 truth, under which her heart was writhing, without a reser- 
 vation of pride or delicacy. 
 
 " It is of very little consequence whose daughter you are," 
 said the young man, tenderly, " so long as I love you, and 
 am, with God's blessing, resolved to make you my wife." 
 
 " Resolved to make me your wife ! " 
 
 The words came one by one from her lips, in measured 
 sadness. She knew t-he thing to be impossible, and tittered 
 the words as if she had buried some beloved object, and was 
 mourning over it. 
 
 " I repeat it, Caroline. There is no change in my love 
 no change in my determination. All that I felt for you in 
 our sweet Italian life lives with me yet." 
 
 Caroline turned her eyes full upon him. An expression 
 of pain broke through their mournfulness. 
 
 " It was impossible ! " 
 
 That was all she said ; but he knew how much agony the 
 words had cost by the whiteness of her lips. 
 
 " But why," he pleaded, " if we love each other, for you 
 love me yet ? " 
 
 " Yes, I love you ! " 
 
 Hilton threw his arms around her, and kissed her cold 
 face in a transport of thankfulness. 
 
 " Then, why not ? ^ We were betrothed in Italy, when I 
 believed you Mr. Brown's daughter, as I do now." 
 
 " But I did not know that you were an English noble- 
 man, and heir to a large estate."
 
 252 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " Is that a crime, Caroline? Besides, you need not trou- 
 ble yourself about the estate. When I ask you in mar- 
 riage, that is given up." 
 
 She turned to him suddenly, and held out her hands. 
 
 " Are you, indeed, ready to give up so much for me ? " 
 
 " I am ready to give up everything but my honor," was 
 his reply. 
 
 " I am only a poor girl, with no honor to hold but my 
 own ; but you shall not find me less generous than you are." 
 
 He kissed her hands in passionate gratitude. 
 
 "Ah, darling, 1 knew I knew that it must end so." 
 
 She forced her hands from his clasp. 
 
 "You misunderstand me. I love you better than myself! 
 better than my life ! Do believe it ! And for that reason 
 we part, now and forever! I could not live through 
 another hour like this !" 
 
 "Caroline!" 
 
 " I know it is hard ; my own heart is pleading against 
 it. But there is something which forbids me to listen." 
 
 " Caroline, I will not permit this ! It is unnatural, 
 cruel!" 
 
 " I know it ! I know it ! Still it is our destiny. Noth- 
 ing that has been said, or can be said, will change the fact 
 of your birth and mine. Do not, I implore you, press this 
 matter farther. It is hard to fight against my own heart 
 and you. Spare me and let me go ! " 
 
 Caroline arose and absolutely fled from the man she 
 loved. He did not attempt to detain her, but walked 
 away slowly, half offended but more resolved on making 
 her his wife than ever.
 
 OUT AMONG THE TREES. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 OUT AMONG THE TREES. 
 
 NOT far from the glen, loitering up and down a secluded 
 forest-path, Caroline met Lady Clara, and, by her side, the 
 young man whom she had met that night at Olympia's 
 supper party. This took her by surprise, and she turned 
 into another path, where a sheltered garden seat invited 
 her to rest. 
 
 Lady Clara had not seen her companion, and was too 
 much occupied for any thought regarding her. She was 
 talking earnestly to Hepworth Gloss, who had refused Lady 
 Carset's invitation to take up his quarters at the castle, but 
 was staying at the public house down in the village, until 
 after the festival, at which Clara still refused to be 
 introduced as sole heiress of the broad domain on which 
 they stood. 
 
 " Let us be patient," she said. " I cannot distress this 
 kind old lady while she is so disturbed and so feeble. 
 Let things take their course till she is strong enough to 
 endure this additional agitation. She was greatly pleased 
 with you that morning when you called. By degrees she 
 will learn to like you ; and when she finds that Lord Hilton 
 has no idea of joining the estates by a marriage with her 
 heiress a thing which I know she has at heart, but she has, 
 as yet, only given me warning by most delicate insinua- 
 tions your proposal will not disturb her so much." 
 
 Hepworth Closs had learned the great lessons of patience, 
 and loved the 3'oung girl by his side too sincerely for any 
 protest against what was, iu fact, a necessary delay ; so he 
 answered her kindly ;
 
 254 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " So long as we are not entirely separated, Clara, I can 
 bear anything, even your father's hostility, which, after all, 
 is but natural." 
 
 " But that, too, will be swept away by grandmamma's 
 consent ; and I am sure she loves me so much that, with 
 patience, that may be obtained. Besides, there is your 
 sister, eager for your interests and pining for your society." 
 
 " Poor Rachael ! How does she bear the honors heaped 
 upon her up yonder." 
 
 " Like an empress. Indeed, I never saw her really happy 
 before. My father has all at once taken to adoring her. 
 No wonder ! Happiness has made her so grandly beautiful, 
 so dashingty brilliant in all she says and does. The new 
 duke, who has just come down, is so taken with her that he 
 scarcely leaves her side." 
 
 "I am glad of that," exclaimed Gloss. "If ever a 
 woman was born to control society, it is Rachael. Does 
 she know I am here ? " 
 
 " I have not told her yet. It will be time enough when 
 all this tumult about the heirship has abated. And perhaps 
 it will be best to let papa find it out in some natural way, 
 when he will, I hope, be anxious to recognize you as Lady 
 Carset's guest, and make atonement for his harshness at 
 Oakhurst." 
 
 "What a wise little diplomat you have become, Clara ! " 
 
 " Yes, I think so. It is just beginning to dawn on me 
 that rash action is the worst kind of selfishness; how, just 
 by a little kindness and a great deal of love, I, a harem- 
 scarem girl, who never stopped to think in my life before, 
 have reconciled an old family feud of fifteen 3'ears standing, 
 brought Lady Hope triumphantly to Houghton, and swept 
 ever so many cares out of my father's way, besides all the 
 little pleasantness that my coming has given to the old 
 countess. I wouldn't boast iu this way to any one else,
 
 OUT AMONG THE TKEES. 255 
 
 Hepwortb ; but these things make me proud and happy, so 
 I tell them to you, as I whisper it to myself. When I 
 first came here, it was with the resolution of appealing to 
 grandmamma against Lord Hope's opposition to us, and, if 
 she went against me, to throw up everything, and set them 
 all at defiance. But one must have a hard nature to attempt 
 such harsh measures with that sweet old lady. It would 
 break my heart to leave her wound my conscience to give 
 her a moment's pain. As for her title and her wealth, I tell 
 you, honestly, they are encumbrances I do not want. A 
 thousand times, rather, would I have her consent, with that 
 of my father, and freedom to go with yon where we pleased. 
 I want no greatness or power for myself, unless it comes 
 through the man I love; but for you, Hepworth, I am ambi- 
 tions, and would rather a thousand times go to America, and 
 share the honors which your own genius would be sure to 
 win, as plain Mrs. Closs, than stay here as mistress of 
 Houghton, a countess in my own right, and you only recog- 
 nized as the husband of Lady Carset." 
 
 The hot color came and went in her lover's face as Clara 
 spoke out the thoughts that haunted her about the future 
 his own thoughts expressed through her girlish lips. He 
 turned suddenly, took her hands, and kissed them both 
 with passionate warmth. 
 
 " Oh, if they would but give you up with nothing but 
 this glorious freedom, I should not have another wish on 
 earth ; but they are about to bury you so deep beneath 
 their wealth and titles that I may not be able to find my 
 love when I ask for her." 
 
 Clara smiled. 
 
 11 You shall never -ask for me that I will not come. 
 There is not in all England wealth or honors enough to buy 
 me out of your reach. Only let us wait patiently a little 
 while longer."
 
 256 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 " Sweet child ! generous woman ! Jacob never served 
 more faithfully for his love than I am willing to wait for 
 mine. Only this, we must not be kept apart." 
 
 " We will not be kept apart. Our souls belong to each 
 other. No person on earth shall enthrall them." 
 
 " Then I am content ; all the more because I know what 
 utter desolation absence is. Ah, Clara, it seemed like an 
 opening from Paradise when yon wrote me to come here ! 
 Heaven knows where I should have been now but for that 
 blessed note ! " 
 
 " But you are here, safe and well, for which the good God 
 be thanked ! Everything has happened without disappoint- 
 ment to any one, unless it may be Caroline's mother, the 
 handsome Olympia. She is furious, Lord Hilton tells me. 
 I am a little sorry for that poor woman. Of course, she 
 wasn't just as she should be to Caroline, but I can't help 
 liking her, after all. There that dear girl sits, like patience 
 on a monument, waiting for me. I wonder what has become 
 of Lord Hilton ? " 
 
 Here Lady Clara and her lover separated ; she joined her 
 friend, whose garments were visible through the green of 
 the leaves, and he walked toward the village, very happy^ 
 notwithstanding the uncertainty of his affairs. 
 
 As Hepworth entered his room at the inn, he was accosted 
 with boisterous familiarity by Mr. Stacy, the New York 
 alderman, who expressed the broadest astonishment at his 
 presence there, and was anxious to know if it would break 
 up his own mission to the castle. 
 
 Hepworth reassured him on this point, and gave some 
 additional directions, which the alderman accepted with nods 
 and chuckles of self-sufficiency, that were a little repulsive to 
 the younger and more refined man. 
 
 " I understand Matthew Stacy is to be ' A Number One'
 
 OUT AMONG THE TREES. 257 
 
 in the whole business sole agent of her mother's trust ; by- 
 the-way, who was her mother?" 
 
 There was a shrewd twinkle in Stacy's eye as he asked 
 this, which Hepworth comprehended and met at once. 
 
 " Her mother was the first Lady Hope, the only daughter 
 of Lady Carset, up there at the castle. She died in America 
 while travelling there with her husband, about fifteen years 
 ago." 
 
 All this was plain and simple. The alderman drew a 
 deep breath, and the shrewd twinkle went out of his eyes. 
 
 " To tell the truth," he said, " I was thinking of that 
 poor murdered lady, Mrs. Hurst. You know there was a 
 little girl at the inquest that would have been about the age 
 of this young lady ; for I took a peep into the peerages, after 
 you opened this matter, and I thought possibly that Mrs. 
 Hurst and Lady Hope might be you understand ? " 
 
 " What ! Identical ! Did you mean that ? " 
 
 "Well, no, not exactly identical she was respectable 
 enough but the same person." 
 
 " But you forgot, Mr. Stacy, telling me that the young 
 lady who appeared as a singer in the opera that night was 
 that very child." 
 
 "By Jingo ! you are right ! I did that same. Of course 
 of course. What was I thinking of? How she did sing, 
 too ; ten thousand mocking birds in her throat, all piping 
 away at once. What was I thinking of? Now, Mr. Gloss, 
 while I'm gone for I mean to strike while the iron is hot 
 just have the goodness to look in on Mrs. S., she will feel it 
 a compliment, being a trifle homesick and lonesome down 
 here. But tell her to keep a stiff upper lip ; there isn't 
 many ladies,-not even 3'our barronessers and duohessers, that 
 shall outshine her at the grand party up yonder." 
 
 " The grand party ! " repeated Hepworth, in amazement. 
 " Are you invited there ? "
 
 iJ58 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "Not just yet, but of course I mean to be. One good 
 turn deserves another, Mr. Hepworth I beg pardon Mr. 
 Gloss, and if I take this pile up to Castle Houghton, it is 
 no more than fair that the young lady gives me an invite 
 for myself and Mrs. S. Turn about is fair play, all the 
 world over, Mr. Gloss, and I don't mean to lose my chances. 
 Some men would ask money for all this, but I am ready to 
 put up with an invite. Mrs. S. has set her heart on it. 
 Ask her to let you see that red velvet dress that she got 
 made on purpose, and the panier. Don't, by any means, 
 forget to ask her to show you the panier ; it's tremendous, 
 I tell you." 
 
 Mr. Stacy stood for a moment longer, shaking the links 
 of his gold chain up and down in one hand, as if he had 
 something else to say, but not remembering what it was, he 
 disappeared, and was soon driving, in the best carriage he 
 could obtain, toward Houghton Castle. 
 
 Lady Clara was in her own room scolding, persuading, 
 and comforting Caroline, when a card was brought to her, 
 and she read, with astonishment, the name of "Matthew 
 Stacy, Esq., Ex- Alderman, New York." 
 
 " Who is this person ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Haven't the least hidea, my lady ; he asked for yer led- 
 dyship, and would, on no account, see any one else, yer 
 leddyship." 
 
 " Where is he now ? " 
 
 " In the small drawing-room, yer leddyship." 
 
 Clara went down, excited by the painful curiosity which 
 always disturbed her when she met any person from Amer- 
 ica. What could he want ? 
 
 Alderman Stacy arose as she entered the room where he 
 was sitting, and made three profound bg,ws in the different 
 stages of her advance from the door, then he sat down in a 
 light chair. The delicate India carving began to,
 
 OUT AMONG THE TREES. 259 
 
 under his weight, and he sprang to his feet again, looking 
 over his shoulder at the combination of azure silk and 
 lace-like ebony in awkward consternation. Then he took 
 another chair, all cushions and softness, in which he sank 
 down luxuriously, and began to fidget with his chain. 
 
 " You are from New York, Mr. Stacy I think it was on 
 your card ? " said Clara, commencing the conversation. 
 
 "Yes, exactly, my my lady Empire State; besides 
 that I have a little business with you pleasant business, I 
 may undertake to say; money, my dear young lady. 
 Money always is pleasant. What ancient poet is it that 
 says, ' money makes the mare go? ' which means, I take it, 
 that it drives men and women I mean gentlemen and 
 ladies just alike. So I call it pleasant news, when I tell 
 your ladyship that I have got a pile of it for you American 
 bonds, payable in gold." 
 
 " Money for me for me ? " 
 
 "No wonder you are surprised. The amount was an 
 astonisher for me when I came to reckon it up. At first it 
 was a mere nothing, only a few thousand, but gold, in ray 
 hands, grows, grows, grows, and now, my dear young lady, 
 that little heap left by your lamented mother you under- 
 stand" 
 
 " Left by my mother, and for me ? " 
 
 " Yes, your lamented mother, the first Lady Hope, a 
 lovely woman, but delicate, very delicate ; carried off by con- 
 sumption at last. Well, just before her death she sent for 
 me we were great friends, you know. Being alderman, in 
 fact, president of the board, I had an opportunity to offer 
 her some municipal civilities, such as the use of the Gover- 
 nor's room to receive her friends in, and the freedom of the 
 city. I assure you she had the broadest liberty to ride 
 where she pleased, especially in the Central Park. Then we 
 took her to the institutions, and she had a lovely dinner on 
 16
 
 260 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Blackwell's Island, for I was hand in glove with the com- 
 missioners. I don't tell these things to boast of 'era only to 
 explain how she came to trust me as her executioner I 
 beg pardon her executor, and send for me just as her spirit 
 was taking flight." 
 
 " Oh ! please tell me of that of her I do not care about 
 the money," cried Clara, interrupting this pompous tissue 
 of falsehoods, with tears in her eyes. " You saw her, you 
 talked with her?" 
 
 " Often and often." 
 
 " Oh, tell me ! " 
 
 "Not just now, young lady. Business is business, and we 
 must not get things mixed. Some other time, after your 
 great party, for instance, I shall be too happy, for Mrs. 
 Stacy and I shall stay in the village, till after that august 
 occasion ; but now I come on business, nothing short, and I 
 am in a hurry to get these ten thousand pounds American 
 gold-bearing bonds off my stomach I beg pardon con- 
 science. Here, my lady, is the pile of bonds. Every one 
 will bring the tin when its wanted, no mistake about that." 
 
 Here Mr. Stacy laid a package of bonds in Lady Clara's 
 lap, and stood with a beaming face, regarding her puzzled 
 look, as she examined them. 
 
 " And these are worth ten thousand pounds ? " she said. 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "And left to me without reservation or condition, by my 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Exactly. ' My dear friend,' said she, ' you will find 
 somewhere about three thousand pounds in the bank. That 
 money I leave in your hands, for I have faith in you, Stacy. 
 That money is sure to grow, and when my daughter, Clara, 
 gets to be about eighteen or so, pay it and the increase over 
 to her in my name; tell her to keep it for her own indepen- 
 dent use ; to say nothing to Lord Hope or his wife I mean
 
 OUT AMONG THE TREES. 261 
 
 if he should marry again but to use it just as she pleases, 
 without regard to her grandmother or any one else.' These 
 were the directions your mother left with the money, and I 
 hope you will make sure to abide by them, my lady." 
 
 "I will remember every word you have said." answered 
 Clara, whose face was beginning to brighten under a new 
 idea, and the bonds were becoming very precious to her. 
 " But is there nothing I can do in return for this kind- 
 ness?" 
 
 " I expected this. That was just what she said, ' My 
 friend,' says she, ' there will be no such thing as paying you 
 in specie for the service you will do my child ; but she will 
 be a lady of rank, Mr. Stacy, and as such will know how to 
 return your kindness, and entertain you with the best. 
 Though dukes and princes should be her guests, she will 
 have pride and glory in introducing her mother's faithful 
 friend to them all. Yes, him and that splendid woman, 
 who is your wife, the friend of my bosom,' says she ; ' and 
 if you ever go to England, be sure to take your wife along, 
 then you'll have a chance to learn what British hospitality 
 is in the walls of Houghton Castle, my own birthplace.' " 
 
 " My mother has promised nothing in my power to per- 
 form which shall not be done," said Clara, a good deal puz- 
 zled by all that she heard, and quite at a loss to judge of 
 the social status of her visitor. But the great fact remain- 
 ed her mother had trusted him ; he had brought "her a 
 large sum of money, which nothing but the most honorable 
 integrity would have prevented him keeping for his own 
 benefit. The man who could so faithfully render back an 
 important trust, must be worthy even of her grandmother's 
 hospitality. 
 
 The moment Mr. Stacy had bowed and stumbled himself 
 from the room, Clara ran to Lady Carset, and obtained an 
 invitation for M. Stacy, Esq., and lady, to the entertain-
 
 262 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 ment which was now close at hand. With that invitation, 
 went a large package directed to Hepworth Gloss, in which 
 a letter was enclosed, requesting him to take such legal 
 steps in her behalf as would secure the amount contained 
 in the American bonds to Mr. Brown, the father of her dear 
 friend, Caroline. " I know that she would refuse the inde- 
 pendence for herself and her father, if I were to press it 
 upon her; indeed, she has already done so, when I only 
 hinted at the matter; but when it is secured irrevocably to 
 her father, she must submit to being made comfortable in 
 spite of herself. The money is mine to use exactly as I 
 please, and this is my pleasure. Pray help me to carry it 
 out. There is no need of consulting that dear old man, 
 Brown, whose welfare I seek quite as earnestly as I do that 
 of his daughter; for he is just the sweetest and dearest 
 character I ever knew, and I would give the world to see 
 his blessed old face, when he first discovers that he is a rich 
 man. Tell me all about it. Be very careful and delicate 
 in your management of this business, and say nothing until 
 you have put it out of your power or mine to revoke what 
 will make me the happier in the giving than they can be in 
 receiving. When we meet I will tell you how this money 
 came to be mine ; but before then, I trust it will be in the 
 possession of another. What do I want of American 
 bonds ? I think it would offend my dear old fairy-grand- 
 mother if I took them, and I know you will approve what I 
 am doing." 
 
 Gloss read the letter with a smile of pleasure ; but when 
 he took up the bonds again, his face clouded. 
 
 " Can I never wash my hands of that poor lady's money," 
 he said. " Do what I can, it will come back to me."
 
 THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. 
 
 THE night arrived at last in which Lady Carset was to 
 do the honors of her own castle, and receive the highest 
 and brightest of the land in person. A range of boudoirs 
 and saloons, connected with the state drawing-room, were 
 thrown together, and united in one splendid vista by silken 
 draperies and hot-house plants, which formed noble wreaths 
 and arches over each entrance, filling room after room with 
 brightness and fragrance. 
 
 The conservatories had been stripped that night, that 
 their treasures of rare exotics might brighten the splendor 
 of those rooms, and soften the ancestral grandeur of the 
 vast entrance hall. They wound in massive wreaths 
 around the carved balustrades of that broad oaken staircase 
 were duplicated over and over again in the hight and 
 breadth of those noble mirrors. They formed a blooming 
 border around the oaken floors, black with age and bright 
 with polish, of the dancing-rooms. The gilded orchestras 
 were interlaced with them, and, in every group of plants or 
 clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like stars, cast- 
 ing tremulous shadows from the leaves, and lending a richer 
 color to the blossoms. 
 
 When the first carriage load of guests came sweeping 
 across the stone terrace, Lady Carset left her dressing-room, 
 and, leaning on the arm of Lord Hope, took her place in 
 the central -drawing-room, with gentle dignity, and stood, 
 with the gaslight quivering around her, touching up the 
 richness of her purple garments with golden ripples of light, 
 and striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds,
 
 264 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 which held, and gathered up the woven moonlight of her 
 lace shawl on those daint}', sloping shoulders and delicate 
 bust, which had not known such ornaments for years. A 
 ripple of these noble jewels ran through the soft waves of 
 her hair, and held the tuft of Marchant feathers and lap- 
 pets of gossamer lace back from her left temple, whence 
 they floated off gently into the snow of her hair, scarcely 
 whiter than it was. A lovelier representative of the grand- 
 est aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady of the olden 
 times, had never, since its foundation, done the honors of 
 Houghton Castle. But the sweet old lady was already 
 forced to exert all her strength, that nothing should fall 
 short of the old hospitality on this the last fete she ever 
 expected to give. 
 
 Lady Clara had followed her, half dancing, half floating 
 down that broad staircase, jerking blossoms from the plants 
 as she went, and forming them into a tiny bouquet for her 
 grandmother. Her dress was just one cloud of silvery 
 whiteness. A little cluster of moss rose buds on the left 
 shoulder, and another in her belt, were all the ornaments 
 she wore. She had insisted, with almost passionate vehe- 
 mence, that no mention of her heirship should be made 
 that night, and the old lady consented with reluctance, but 
 appeased her own impatience by a grand festival to all her 
 tenants and retainers in the park, where nothing had been 
 omitted which, in feudal times, was considered proper when 
 the heirship of Houghton was proclaimed. Still, in words, 
 the old lady had kept honorable silence, and no one, even 
 from the grandeur of the entertainment, had a right to 
 more than guess that the general heirship was settled on 
 Lord Hope's daughter. 
 
 In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly given to Lord 
 and Lady Hope, and the old countess had taken up the 
 sparkling weight of all those Carset jewels, that all the
 
 THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. 265 
 
 world might know that they had come back honorably into 
 her own possession. It was a splendid and most delicate 
 way of acknowledging herself in the wrong. 
 
 Before the guests had commenced to arrive in any num- 
 bers, Lady Hope came floating into the state drawing-room, 
 with a noble cactus flower sweeping backwards from the 
 left side of her head, and resting upon the massive braids 
 of her hair, which curved upwards like a helmet, from her 
 neck almost to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encir- 
 cled her neck and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blos- 
 som, but forming a bold contrast to the amber silk of her 
 dress, which swept far back upon the polished floor, and 
 took the light as birds of Paradise fling off sunshine from 
 their pjumage. A beautiful and right queenly personage 
 was Eachael Gloss that night, as she moved across the floor 
 and took her place by the little countess, who looked up and 
 smiled gently when she saw that Lord Hope's wife ap- 
 peared in the old family rubies, which she had presented to 
 her that morning. 
 
 One bright glance at Clara, another of sparkling triumph 
 at Lord Hope, and Eachael gave herself up to the brilliant 
 duties that lay before her. This night was to be the 
 crowning success of her life. 
 
 The guests swept through the great entrance, and into 
 the drawing-room now, in crowds and groups. Music 
 sounded from half a dozen gilded orchestras, and the oaken 
 'floors of that old castle began to tremble under the feet of 
 many dancers, as they kept time to the music, and sent out 
 a soft undertone of conversation. 
 
 Lord Hope opened the ball with the elite of the eMite. 
 Lord Hilton led Lady Clara into the same set, at which the 
 old countess nodded her head and smiled. She observed 
 that the joung nobleman bent his head, and looking in the 
 bright face of her grandchild, was talking earnestly to her,
 
 266 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 at which the dear old lady smiled again, and put up her 
 fan, that no one might observe how pleased she was. 
 
 This was what Hilton was saying : 
 
 "And she would not come down, fearing to meet me ? 
 This is hard, Lady Clara ! " 
 
 "No," answered the girl, reaching out her hand for a 
 ladies' chain, and breaking from it in haste. " It is not alto- 
 gether that ; she says that it is impossible to be of us that 
 her birth forbids it, and any attempt at equality could only 
 end in humiliation. I cannot persuade her out of this 
 idea : entreat as I would, she refused utterly to come down. 
 Then I got grandmamma to urge it, and she did it beau- 
 tifully, but it was no use ; and there the poor darling sits 
 all alone, hearing the music and our voices, as prisoners in 
 their cells listen to bird songs through windows in the 
 walls. It is cruel ! Why can't people be born all alike, 
 and go up and down according to their own merits, I won- 
 der ? " 
 
 "That is an American idea. You must have picked it 
 up there in your infancy, Lady Clara." 
 
 " I should not wonder. Some day I mean to go back 
 there and see what social equality is like." 
 
 " Oh, you will find no place on earth where your title 
 will be of so much value, Lady Clara," said Hilton, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " Well, that is because the Americans respect history, 
 and associate us with the great deeds of mutual ancestors. 
 It is the romance of tradition that interests them ; for they 
 are great readers, these Americans, and know more of us, as 
 a people, than we do of ourselves. We represent the war- 
 riors and the statesmen which they have clothed in the poet- 
 ry of great deeds. If the nobility of this day disappoints 
 them it is our own fault. When they learn that our great-
 
 THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. 267 
 
 ness consists only in titles, we shall have little homage 
 merely for them." 
 
 " What a strange little creature you are ! " 
 
 " Yes, rather. It is our turn now." 
 
 After a little there was another long pause in the 
 dance. Then Hilton went back to the subject nearest to his 
 heart. 
 
 " You could not possibly persuade her to come down 
 not here, but into some of the less public rooms ?" he said. 
 
 " Impossible. She would not think of it." 
 
 Cruel ! 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; but then, I would do exactly the same 
 thing." 
 
 ''What makes you start so, Clara?" 
 
 "Don't you see ? There is Mr. Closs going up to grand- 
 mamma, and papa standing close by her. Why, Lord 
 Hope is speaking to him ! How good ! how kind ! They 
 are both smiling; now, now, do look on mamma Rachael's 
 face she sees them, and happiness makes her splendid ! 
 He is coming this way. Understand now, I shall dance 
 with him just as often as I can, and you are to help me if I 
 get into any trouble. Thank Heaven, this set is over ! " 
 
 "You are complimentary," laughed Lord Hilton. 
 
 " So I am ; but you don't mind it. Here he is. Let me 
 introduce you before he takes me off. Lord Hilton, Mr. 
 Closs." 
 
 The next moment Clara was whirling through the room, 
 with Hepworth Closs' arm around her waist, and her hand 
 on his shoulder. She kept her word, and spent half her 
 evening with him, managing to escape observation as much 
 as possible, and thus secured a few hours of supreme hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Lord Hope had received his brother-in-law with gentle-
 
 268 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 manly ease. How could he help it, not being master at 
 Houghton ? 
 
 Besides, he was disposed to cast off all responsibility with 
 regard to his daughter's choice of a husband, and leave 
 everything to the judgment and pride of the old countess, 
 who happened to like Gloss, and was not aware how much 
 of that evening he spent with her grandchild. 
 
 Rachael was in ecstacies. She loved her brother dearly, 
 and his apparent reconciliation with her husband lifted the 
 last cloud from her heart. It seemed to her that night as 
 if she had nothing to wish for. 
 
 The old countess stood to her post bravely, until after the 
 supper-rooms had been thrown open and the gay crowds 
 had passed in and out again ; but when the dancing had 
 recommenced and the conversation around her grew brilliant 
 and a little confusing, she turned suddenly pale, and would 
 have fallen, but that Lady Clara, who stood near, sprang 
 forward and threw both arms around her. 
 
 " She is better ; she can walk now. I will go with her," 
 cried the excited young creature. " Papa, you shall help 
 her up-stairs, then I will take care of her," she added, see- 
 ing how helpless the old lady was. 
 
 Lord Hope almost carried the old lady up-stairs. Then. 
 Clara called aloud for Caroline Brown, who came out from 
 her chamber, and, between them, they led the old countess 
 into the tower-room.
 
 THE OLD WOMAN BACK AGAIN. 269 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN. 
 
 OLD Mrs. Yates had left the railroad station two miles 
 back, and was walking wearily along the high road toward 
 the village, which la}', as it were, at the feet of Hough ton 
 Castle, like a spaniel crouching at the foot of its mistress. 
 At the station and all along the road she had observed an 
 unusual commotion. Carriages in an unprecedented num- 
 ber were waiting for special trains, which came in more 
 than once that day for Houghton Castle. 
 
 All the vehicles in the neighborhood were in motion, 
 dashing to and from the village inns, the castle, and a neigh- 
 boring town, where accommodations for a great access of 
 people could be obtained. 
 
 Hannah Yates was more than once nearly run over and 
 driven back to the banks of the highway by those flying 
 vehicles, where she stood half-terrified, half-curious, looking 
 after them in wistful astonishment. 
 
 What could this tumultuous movement mean ? Was it 
 a wedding but of whom ? A funeral the old countess ? 
 
 No, no ! Destiny could not be so cruel. Besides, there 
 was no such eager driving or smiling faces when the head 
 of that castle was taken from its broad portals to the 
 family vault. It must be sdme festival, and she was yet in 
 time. 
 
 At an abrupt curve of -the road the old woman came sud- 
 denly upon -a full view of the castle. It was all ablaze 
 with lights, and rose up from the embosoming trees like 
 some enchanted palace upon which a tempest of stars had 
 rained down in all their heavenly brightness. The broad
 
 270 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 fa$ade which connected the tower was flooded with noonday 
 light, and she could discover groups of people moving to 
 and fro on the stone terrace in front, rendered so small 
 by the distance that they seemed unreal and fairy-like. 
 Down to the verge of the park and upward, curving 
 through the woods, she could trace the chestnut avenue by 
 wreaths of colored lanterns that blazed from tree to tree 
 like mammoth jewels chaining them together. Now and 
 then a carriage broke to view, sweeping along the mac- 
 adamized avenue, clearly revealed by the light that fell 
 around it. 
 
 Never in her life had the old woman seen such splendid 
 commotion about that stately building, yet she could remem- 
 ber many a festive scene in its old walls, when crowned 
 princes bad been entertained there with a degree of splen- 
 dor scarcely exceeded in their own palaces. 
 
 As the old woman str od gazing upon this scene, a coun- 
 tryman, passing along the highway, paused near her to get 
 a sight of the castle. 
 
 ''What is going on up yonder?" inquired the woman, 
 drawing toward him and speaking in his own broad dia- 
 lect. 
 
 " What is't at yon castle ? An' who mon you be that 
 donna know that the oud lady up at Houghton is giving a 
 grand blow-out to her gran' child, Lord Hope's daughter, an' 
 to Lady Hope, as people thought she would never abide in 
 her sight?" 
 
 "And is Lord and Lady Hope at the castle ? " 
 
 "Aye, an' the young lady, too her that the oud countess 
 is o'er fond of; but the young 'un is a right comely lass, an' 
 the oud 'un might go furder and fare worse." 
 
 Mrs. Yates gathered the woolen shawl she had travelled 
 in about her, and went hastily down the bank on which she
 
 THE OLD WOMAN BACK AGAIN. 271 
 
 had been standing, so excited that all the weakness of age 
 seemed to have been suddenly swept from her. 
 
 She had intended to sleep in the village that night ; now 
 she bent her steps resolutely toward the castle. 
 
 As she came out of the chestnut avenue, keeping upon 
 the turf and among the shadows, all of the glory of that 
 illumination broke upon her. 
 
 The broad terrace, flooded with light a fountain, directly 
 in front, shooting up a column of liquid crystal thirty feet 
 or more, where it branched off, like a tree of quivering ice 
 swaj'ed gracefully in the wind, and broke up in a storm of 
 drops that rained downward, flashing and glittering through 
 that golden atmosphere to their source again. 
 
 Above this rose those grand old towers, garlanded with 
 colored lamps that wound in and out of the clinging ivy in 
 great wreaths and chains of tinted fire, which harmonized 
 with the quivering foliage, and flooded the fountain, the 
 terrace, and all the neighboring trees with a soft atmosphere 
 of golden green. 
 
 Here and there the gray old stonework of the towers 
 broke through, revealing glimpses of the giant strength 
 which lay hidden underneath ; and over the right hand 
 tower, from a flag-staff turned around and around with 
 star-like lights, the broad, red banner, with which the 
 Carsets had for centuries defied their enemies and wel- 
 comed their friends, floated slowly out UDOU the night 
 wind. 
 
 Hannah Yates saw all this, and knew, by the music 
 which thrilled the air around her, that the revel, whatever 
 it was, had commenced ; for a sound of pleasant voices and 
 sweet laughter came through the open windows, and from 
 the depths of the park where an ox had been roasted whole 
 that day, and wine and beer had flowed freely as the waters 
 of the fountain came subdued sounds of a waning festival,
 
 272 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 which had been given to the tenantry and villagers. The 
 gaiety of the castle was answered back from the park, and 
 harmonized by that of the working people who tilled all the 
 broad lands around it. 
 
 When the old woman heard these answering sounds she 
 felt that an heiress to all this greatness was acknowledged 
 that night, for when lords gathered in the castle, and ten- 
 ants in the park, it was usually to acknowledge the rights 
 of a coming heir, and she could not believe that all this had 
 been done in honor of Lady Hope. 
 
 Hannah Yates lost all the unnatural strength that had 
 brought her among this splendor. She knew that it was 
 scarcely possible that she could speak with Lady Carset 
 that night, if she could, indeed, gain admittance to the 
 castle ; but she went around to a back entrance, and so 
 made her way, unseen, to the tower - chamber, which 
 opened into Lady Carset's dressing-room. There she sat 
 down and waited, hour after hour, until at last the door 
 opened, and the old countess came in, walking feebly be- 
 tween two young girls, one of whom she had never seen 
 before, but the other made the sinking heart leap in her 
 bosom. 
 
 When the old countess entered, the lights in her room 
 were shaded, but they struck those masses of jewels in the 
 snowy whiteness of her hair and upon her bosom with a 
 brilliancy that revealed the gray pallor of that aged face 
 with painful distinctness. 
 
 Hannah Yates arose from the shaded place in which she 
 was sitting, and came forward to support her old mistress. 
 
 The countess looked up, and a faint smile flickered across 
 her face. 
 
 " Ah ! Yates, is it you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Yates made no answer, but took that frail form in 
 her arms and carried it to the couch.
 
 THE OLD WOMAN BACK AGAIN. 273 
 
 "Take them off! take them off! They are heavy, ah, so 
 heavy ! " 
 
 The old lady put a waving hand to her head, indicating 
 that it was the diamonds that troubled her. 
 
 Mrs. Yates, who had performed this office many a time 
 before, unclasped the jewels and laid them on a sofa-table 
 close by, then she removed the burning stones from that 
 oppressed bosom, and unclasped them from the slender arms, 
 while her mistress lay struggling for breath, with her eyes 
 fixed on that kind old face with a look of touching helpless-, 
 ness. 
 
 " Give me water," she whispered. 
 
 Caroline ran for a goblet of water, and held it to those 
 white lips. The countess drank a swallow and then called 
 out: 
 
 "Wine! wine !" 
 
 Wine was brought, and she drank a little. 
 
 " Go, my child/' she whispered, seeing how anxious and 
 pale Clara appeared, in spite of the cloudy softness of her 
 dress. " Go to your room and get some rest. Ah, me ! 
 how all this wearies, wearies ! " 
 
 The two girls hesitated. There was something in that 
 sweet, old face that kept them spellbound. The old lady 
 saw it, and reaching forth her hand, drew them, one after 
 the other, down to her lips, and kissed them. 
 
 " Good-night, good-night ! " 
 
 How softly those gentle words fell from hSr lips. With 
 what yearning fondness her eyes followed those young 
 creatures as they went reluctantly from the room, look- 
 ing back in wistful sorrow, as they left her in the care of 
 Yates.
 
 274 THE dLD COUNTESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 LADY HOPE IJT THE CASTLE. 
 
 LADY CLARA had been dancing, talking and receiving 
 such homage as would have satisfied the ambition of a prin- 
 cess. She had managed to snatch time to exchange many a 
 sweet word and bright look with her lover, and would have 
 been happy in delicious weariness, but for the sudden indis- 
 position which had fallen upon her grandmother. As it was 
 she could hardly realize anything, but gave way to intense 
 weariness, and almost fell asleep as Margaret was undressing 
 her. 
 
 But Caroline had been alone all the evening, within hear- 
 ing of the laughter, the music, and feeling the very tread of 
 the dancers in every nerve. She was young, ardent, and 
 naturally felt a craving wish for the amusement she had 
 resolutely denied herself; now, less than ever, could she feel 
 a desire for sleep. Instead of seeking her room she wan- 
 dered off to a wing of the castle, in which the picture 
 gallery stretched its silent range of dead shadows, and tried 
 to throw off the unaccountable excitement that possessed 
 her, by walking up and down the long gallery. 
 
 The late moon was shining through the windows, and a 
 crowd of dimly outlined figures, in armor or sweeping gar- 
 ments, looked down upon her from the walls. 
 
 Why this strange spirit of unrest had sent her to that 
 gallery she could not have told, but it was there still, urging 
 her on and on, she could not tell where, but walked swiftly 
 up and down, up and down, as if striving to weary herself 
 in a desire for the slumber that seemed to have fallen upon 
 every human being in the castle.
 
 LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. 275 
 
 As she was walking thus wildly, a footstep, not her own, 
 disturbed her. She stopped to listen made sure that it 
 was some one advancing, and drew slowly back toward the 
 wall, hoping to shelter herself among the low-hanging pic- 
 tures. 
 
 The moonlight, from a neighboring window, lay full upon 
 her as she retreated across the room, with her face turned 
 down the gallery, and her breath hushed in fear. She saw, 
 coming toward her, now in sha'dow, now in broader light, a 
 lady, in garments of rustling silk, sweeping far back on the 
 oaken floor, and gleaming duskily, amber-hued in the im- 
 perfect light of a small silver lamp which she carried in her 
 hand a beautiful lady, with rubies on her neck and in her 
 hair. The lamplight, for a moment, concentrated on a face 
 whose weariness was overborne by slumbering triumph, 
 which poised her head like that of a newly crowned empress. 
 
 Caroline stood for the moment fascinated, then made a 
 swift retreat, for she saw those great, black eyes turned full 
 upon her, and fled in a panic. 
 
 A shriek the crash of a falling lamp, and a mass of 
 dusky drapery huddled together on the floor, brought the 
 girl out of her covert. Something must have happened 
 the lady had hurt herself perhaps could not arise from 
 want of help. She went down the gallery, passing first 
 one window then another, taking the moonlight from each, 
 when the fallen lady uttered another cry, sprang to her feet 
 and fled down the gallery, leaving her lamp overturned, 
 with the wick still burning. 
 
 Caroline took up the lamp, and placing it on a bracket, 
 left the gallery, vexed with herself for the fright she had 
 occasioned this strange Jady by wandering about so heed- 
 lessly in the dark. Still she could not sleep, but went to 
 her own roon?. and sat waiting there for the morning to 
 dawn. 
 
 17
 
 276 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Perhaps an hour after Caroline left the picture gallery, a 
 figure clothed in white from head to foot, came through an 
 end door, walking firmly through the darkness, and touch- 
 ing the floor with the noiseless tread of her naked feet. 
 She walked straight to the silver lamp and took it from the 
 bracket. Now her face was revealed. It was Lady Hope. 
 
 She held the lamp before her, and moved on very slowly, 
 looking ahead through the darkness with those wide open, 
 staring eyes. 
 
 After that, when all the fires of that vivid illumination 
 had burned out in the park, and were quenched in the 
 castle, a bright star seemed wandering up and down the 
 vast building ; now at one window, then at another, light- 
 ing it up with fitful gleams, then leaving it in darkness, 
 and appearing again in some far off casement. 
 
 Once or twice the form of a woman in white cast its 
 cloudy outline across the plate glass of an unshuttered 
 window ; but no person was in the park to observe her, and 
 she wandered on with a lamp in her firm hand, which 
 brightened over the pallid outlines of her face, and kindled 
 up her night drapery like sunshine over drifted snow. 
 Up and down along the corridors, and through the long 
 drawing-room, the figure swept, carrying her lamp, and 
 moving noiselessly over the floor with her white, naked 
 feet. 
 
 Upon that unconscious face a look of deep pain had 
 stamped itself in place of haughty triumph, and the wide 
 open black eyes had a far-off look, as if their glance could 
 penetrate the walls and the very sky beyond. 
 
 On and on the woman wandered, till she came to a closed 
 door in one of the corridors. Here she paused, laid her 
 right hand on the silver knob, and turned it so noiselessly 
 that, when the door opened, it seemed like the action of a 
 ghost.
 
 LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. 277 
 
 The room was darkened from even the faint light of the 
 stars by sweeping draperies of silk, which glowed out 
 redly as the lamp light fell upon it in flashes, as if suddenly 
 drenched with wine. 
 
 A high ebony bedstead stood in the centre of this noble 
 room, canopied half way over, and draped like the windows, 
 so that a red gleam fell upon the whiteness of the counter- 
 pane as the light of that lamp fell upon it. 
 
 A man lay profoundly sleeping on this bed a handsome, 
 middle-aged man, whose thick brown beard showed soft 
 gleams of silver in it, and whose hair, though waving and 
 bright, was growing thin on the top of his head. 
 
 The man appeared to sleep heavily, and a smile lay on 
 his lips ; but a look of habitual care had written itself on 
 his forehead, and his mouth was surrounded by stern, hard 
 lines, that seemed graven there with steel. 
 
 The woman stood by this sleeping man, gazing on him 
 with the far-off look of a ghost. She turned at last, and 
 set the light down on a console, where it fell less distinctly 
 on the pillow where that head was lying. Then she crept 
 back and sat down on the side of the bed, so close to the 
 unconscious sleeper that her shadow fell across him. 
 Slowly, as if she had been touching a serpent, her hand 
 crept stealthily toward that which lay in the supine care- 
 lessness of sleep on the white counterpane. She touched it 
 at last, but started back. A blood-red stain from the 
 curtain fell across it as her bending form let the light 
 stream through the silk. 
 
 The woman drew back and passed her left hand quickly 
 over that which had touched the sleeping man. Again and 
 again she rubbed one hand over the other, muttering to 
 herself. 
 
 Then a look of passionate distress came to that dark face, 
 and, going to a marble table, on which a silver bowl and
 
 278 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 pitcher stood, she poured some water into the bowl, and 
 plunged the hand with which she had touched that sleeping 
 man into it. The splash of the water aroused him, and its 
 icy coldness shocked the woman out of her unnatural sleep. 
 She turned around wildly, with the water dripping from 
 her hands turned to find herself in her husband's cham- 
 ber, with his astonished eyes fixed upon her as he sat up in 
 bed. 
 
 " Eachael ! " 
 
 She did not answer him, but stood gazing around the 
 room in wild bewilderment. Haw came she standing 
 there ? By what spirit of love or hate had she been sent to 
 that silver basin ? 
 
 "Rachael, is anything wrong? Are you ill?" 
 
 The woman began to shiver. Perhaps the ice cold water 
 had chilled her. 
 
 She looked down upon her hands as if the red shadow 
 haunted her yet, but all she saw were drops of pure water 
 rolling down her slender fingers, and falling one by one to 
 the floor. 
 
 " I do not know ! " she answered, in cold bewilderment. 
 te Something drove me out from the bed, and sent me 
 wandering, wandering, wandering ! But how I came here, 
 alas ! Norton, I cannot tell you." 
 
 Bachael shivered all over as she spoke, and, as if drawn 
 that waj' by some unseen force, came close to Lord Hope's 
 bed, and sat down upon it. 
 
 " Oh, I am so cold so dreary cold ! " 
 
 An eider down quilt lay across the foot of the bed. Lord 
 Hope reached forward and folded it around her, very gently, 
 murmuring : 
 
 " My poor wife ! poor Eachael ! You have been dream- 
 ing." ' 
 
 " No j it was not all dreaming, Norton. I did see no
 
 LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. 279 
 
 matter what; but it was something that terrified me out 
 of all the joy and glory of this night. I must have been 
 fearfully worn out to sleep after that ; but the lamp, which 
 I left behind me, is burning there, and my hands were in 
 the cold water, trying to wash themselves, when you awoke 
 me. I must have been in that fearful picture gallery 
 again." 
 
 " You have courage to go there at all, Rachael! " 
 
 " I got there without knowing it. The rooms have been 
 so changed I lost my way, and took the wrong corridor, and 
 there 1 saw " 
 
 "Her picture." 
 
 " Was it that ? Oh ! was it.only that ? " 
 
 " It is there her picture life size ; and so like that I 
 would not look on it for the world." 
 
 " But what carried me there, Norton ? On this night, 
 too, when I have been honored, as your wife should be for 
 the first time ! when her mother has taken me by the hand 
 and lifted the cloud from my name ! Ah, Norton ! Norton ! 
 it was glory to me when I saw your eyes kindle, and 
 answer back to mine, as the noblest of the land crowded 
 round to do me homage. Then I knew that the old love 
 was perfect yet. Oh, Destiny is cruel, that it will not let 
 me have one perfect day ! " 
 
 "After all, it was but a picture. Why allow it to dis- 
 tress you so ? " 
 
 Lord Hope took her hands in his. She did not shrink 
 from his touch now, as she had in her abnormal sleep; 
 but he felt her palms growing warm, and saw the light 
 coming back to Ler eyes, where it had seemed frozen at 
 first. 
 
 "And you love me? I was sure of it to-night. That 
 was my chiefest glory. Lacking that, what would the 
 homage of all the world be to Rachael Gloss ? I was think- 
 

 
 
 280 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 ing this, when that seemed to start up before me, and 
 whispering to myself, ' He loves me ! he loves me ! he loves 
 me ! ' like a young girl ; for I have seemed very young 
 to-night. Why not ? A glorious life lies before us. You 
 will now step more fearlessly forward, and take your place 
 among the great men of the earth, while I I will be 
 anything ; charm stones, work miracles, to win popularity 
 and lay it at your feet. 
 
 "Say that you love me once more, Norton, and then I 
 will creep back to my pillow, the proudest and happiest 
 woman on earth for, after all, it was only a picture ! " 
 
 Rachael Gloss had hardly done speaking when a cry of 
 distress rang through the neighboring corridor, the door of 
 Lord Hope's chamber was flung open, and a pallid face 
 looked in. 
 
 "Come come at once! My lady is dying!" 
 
 Round to other rooms came that cry of terror, arousing 
 those two girls the one from her sleep, the other from her 
 mournful vigil and drawing the family together, in pale 
 groups, into the tower-chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. 
 
 THE old countess was not dying, but dead. Hannah 
 Yates, who had watched her faithfully, did not know when 
 the last faint breath left her lips ; but she became conscious 
 of a solemn stillness which settled upon the room, and 
 bending forward, saw that soft gray shadows had crept over 
 that gentle face, up to the hair of silky snow, and down to 

 
 DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. 281 
 
 the slender throat, till it was lost in the purple splendor of 
 that festive rote. 
 
 There she lay, tranquil as a sleeping child, with a calm, 
 holy smile breaking through the shadows, and her little 
 hands meekly folded over the gossamer lace on her 
 bosom. 
 
 Upon a marble table close by lay the jewels she had 
 worn a glittering and neglected heap of fire, which gave 
 out more light than the shaded lamps that threw their 
 beams brightly on them, and shed tender moonlight on that 
 lovely old face. 
 
 The family were slowly gathering in that death-chamber, 
 where Clara and Caroline were clinging together in bitter 
 grief, and old Mrs. Yates was kneeling with her face buried 
 in the purple of her mistress' robe. 
 
 Lord Hope came in at last, followed by Lady Hope, who, 
 even in that solemn place, could not suppress her pride as 
 her eyes fell on Lady Clara, whom she recognized as the 
 heiress of all that gentle lady had left. But Lady Clara 
 saw nothing of this. The poor girl was weeping out her 
 passionate sorrow in the arms of her friend, who bent over 
 her with such tender sympathy that her face was almost 
 concealed. 
 
 As Lord Hope advanced toward the death-couch, old 
 Mrs. Yates arose and stood before him. When he had last 
 seen her she was an old woman, but in the prime of her 
 strength ; now her shoulders stooped, her hair was entirely 
 white, and she faltered in her walk. He reached out his 
 hand to her. She did not appear to observe it, but said to 
 him, in a quiet voice : 
 
 " My lord, I am glad to find you here. God has so or- 
 dered it that I was too late for her. She could not hear 
 what I had to say, but you must listen in her stead."
 
 282 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 "At the proper time, Hannah ; but we must not talk of 
 worldly things in this presence." 
 
 Lord Hope bent his head reverently toward the pale form 
 upon the couch, and the old woman also bowed down her 
 face meekly, as she had learned to bow her head in prison ; 
 but she answered, with gentle firmness : 
 
 " No that which I have to say must be told now, and 
 in her dead presence. Since God has forbidden me to 
 bring doubt and sorrow on her last moments I thank Him 
 for it, but you must listen." 
 
 "Not now not now," answered Hope, quickly. He 
 was disturbed by the sight of this old woman, whom he had 
 believed to be buried for life in an American prison ; 
 but he had learned the great art of self-control, and gave 
 no indication of the shock her presence in that room gave 
 him. 
 
 His first impulse was to get Lady Hope out of the apart- 
 ment. She had never seen Mrs. Yates, but he was fearful 
 that some 'mention of her name might renew the nervous 
 agitation from which she had but just recovered. 
 
 "Come with me, Rachael," he said, in a low voice. 
 " I will take you to our room, for this is a painful sight. 
 Then I will return, alone, to hear what this person has to 
 say." 
 
 Lady Hope was willing to leave a scene which filled her 
 with gloom. 
 
 Whispering to Clara that she would come back and 
 watch with her when the old woman was gone, she twisted 
 a corner of the black lace shawl, which covered her head, 
 around her throat, and went away, glad to escape that 
 strange old woman, against whom she had taken one of 
 those sudden antipathies which were common to her. 
 
 " Dear me ! I look almost as deathly as she does, with all 
 these shadows on my face," said Lady Hope, as she stood
 
 DEATH IN THE TOWER- CHAMBER. 283 
 
 before the mirror in her dressing-room, and unwound the 
 black lace from her head. 
 
 She was correct. What with fatigue, and the black 
 shadows flung by her shawl, the best friends of this proud 
 woman would have recognized her with difficulty. 
 
 She turned for her husband's answer, but found that 
 he had left her at the door. All rest was broken up for her 
 now ; in fact, it was almost morning ; so she began to pace 
 the room to and fro, thinking, with exultation, of the honors 
 and wealth that had poured in upon her family by that 
 gentle old lady's death. 
 
 Meantime Lord Hope had gone back to the death- 
 chamber, where Mrs. Yates and the two young ladies were 
 waiting. 
 
 The old woman arose from her knees when he came in. 
 
 "That which I have to say, Lord Hope, relates to you, 
 first of all, now that my dear old mistress is gone. When 
 the first Lady Hope came to America, her little girl, then 
 between two and three years of age, was placed in my son's 
 family, and under my charge, as her mother had been when 
 a child. She had reasons, which you will understand, for 
 wishing the child to pass as the daughter of my son ; so we 
 gave her his name, and she was known everywhere as my 
 grandchild." 
 
 "We had another little girl, about the same age, the 
 daughter of Mrs. Brown, an actress ; fair, like your child, 
 and very pretty. This child, Caroline Brown, was almost 
 given to us ; for, after the first year, we never saw her 
 mother, or received anything from her. One night I 
 received a note asking me to come down to one of the thea- 
 tres, and meet a person who had business with me. There 
 was no name to the note ; but I supposed it must be from 
 Mrs. Browr, and went But no person was there to meet
 
 284 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 me, and I went home disappointed. That night Lady 
 Hope died." 
 
 Lord Hope, who had heen anxious and restless, drew a 
 deep breath ; for he understood, by the slow caution of 
 the old woman's speech, that she meant to reveal no- 
 thing which his anxious and listening daughter might not 
 hear. 
 
 " My lady left a letter behind her, with some money, and 
 the Carset diamonds, which she charged me to deliver, with 
 my own hands, here at the castle. 
 
 " She had fears about her daughter anxieties, which I 
 need not explain and besought me to keep the little girl ; 
 to educate her, and conceal her identity until she was 
 eighteen years old, when I, or my son, should take her 
 back to England, and allow her to choose her own way of 
 life. 
 
 " I had talked this matter over with my lady, and gave 
 her a solemn promise to protect her child, and the honor of 
 her name, with my life, if that were needed. The very 
 night of her death Lady Hope gave all the papers neces- 
 sary to the recognition of her child to my son. He 
 brought them home, and, while the children were asleep, 
 we two pledged ourselves to protect your child from every- 
 thing that her mother feared, and to secure for her all that 
 she hoped. 
 
 " My lord, we kept our oaths. He died, broken-hearted, 
 under the terrible burden which we took on ourselves that 
 night. I lived, carrying it with me, till my shoulders are 
 bowed, and my hair white with old age. 
 
 " The next day, while she lay dead, a fire broke out in 
 the house where we lived. Our rooms were high up; the 
 flames and smoke mounted so suddenly that it was impossi- 
 ble for us to escape by the stairs. The two little girls 
 had crept into a corner of the room, and sat crying there,
 
 . DEATH IN THE TOWER- CHAMBER. 285 
 
 with the fire and smoke rolling toward them. I had 
 secured the box, in which were Lady Hope's jewels and 
 papers, and swung it over my shoulders, then snatched up 
 your child." 
 
 Here the two girls, who stood, pale and trembling, by 
 the window, uttered a simultaneous cry. 
 
 " I remember ! I remember ! " they said, each to the 
 other, then clung together and listened. 
 
 The old woman scarcely heeded this interruption. 
 
 Lord Hope looked toward the window, so bewildered that 
 he could neither see nor hear anything distinctly. 
 
 Mrs. Yates went on : 
 
 "I called on Daniel's wife to bring the other child. 
 Firemen and citizens were climbing the ladders and leaping 
 in at the windows. One man sprang into the room and 
 out again, while I waited for my turn. He had something 
 in his arms huddled up like a bundle pushed me aside and 
 took my place on the ladder. Then Daniel's wife came to 
 me, wringing her hands and crying. She could not find 
 the child. 
 
 "But I had the one most precious to me in my arms. 
 The flames drove me forward, and I let myself down on the 
 ladder. Your child was safe. I know now that the man 
 who pushed me from the window saved little Caroline 
 Brown and brought her to you. She has since been known 
 as your daughter. I saw her in your arms on board the 
 steamer. Last night she was recognized as grand-daughter 
 of Lady Carset." 
 
 ' But the other my own child ? " 
 
 " I had no means of telling you the truth at the time, 
 and, after that, would not do it. The child, I knew, would 
 be a safeguard to little Clara-. You would not inquire for 
 her while supposing her in your own possession. But we 
 took one precaution that of giving her the name of Caro-
 
 286 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 line, which was sure to prevent inquiry. After that she 
 was known as Caroline Yates, and, until my son's death, 
 thought herself his child. I never lived with them after 
 that, but saw her from time to time, though she never 
 noticed me or knew of the interest I took in her ; but, year 
 by year, I saw her grow up, until my son died. Then I 
 lost all knowledge of her. 
 
 " One day I was free to look for this dear child, and went 
 to the cottage where my son's will had secured her a home. 
 It was empty. She had gone away with some singing 
 woman and a person named Brown, who had been her 
 music-teacher. 
 
 " The woman had claimed to be her mother, and was 
 known on the stage as Olympia." 
 
 " Go on ! go on ! " exclaimed Lord Hope ; " I am listen- 
 ing." 
 
 The two girls in the window were listening also. As 
 they understood this story more and more clearly, their 
 arms tightened around each other and a look of unuttera- 
 ble affection beamed upon their faces ; but that of the girl 
 known as Lady Clara glowed with a look of generous self- 
 abnegation, while her companion was troubled, and almost 
 sad. 
 
 " Go on ! go on ! " 
 
 " I left America at once on learning this, bringing Lady 
 Hope's papers and Lady Carset's jewels with me. Olym- 
 pia was in England, and, no doubt, your daughter was 
 with her. First I came here, and gave up the trust that 
 had become a heavy, heavy burden. Then I went in search 
 of my young lady. The time had come when she might 
 claim her title and her rights, without violating her 
 mother's directions. After much search, I found Olympia's 
 house, and inquired for the person known as her daughter. 
 She told me herself, and with bitter anger, that she had no
 
 DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. 287 
 
 daughter. I knew the woman, and attempted to make 
 her comprehend that I wished to find the young lady 
 for her own good; but this flung her into a passion of 
 rage, and she ordered me from the house. Then followed 
 an attempt to bribe me. Still I kept up the search, and at 
 last traced the girl they called Caroline Brown to this 
 neighborhood." 
 
 " To this neighborhood ! " exclaimed Lord Hope. 
 "Where? where?" 
 
 " My lord, up to this time you have only the word of 
 an old woman, who has suffered under great reproach for 
 all this. I know that the identity of a nobleman's child 
 and the transfer of a great inheritance cannot be so proven. 
 But here is the letter, which Lady Hope gave to me, and 
 another that she wrote to you on the day of her death. 
 Poor, poor lady ! She was very sad that morning, and 
 would undertake the letter at once. God seemed to warn 
 her of what would happen in the next twenty-four hours." 
 
 Lord Hope took the papers which the old woman handed 
 to him, and there, in the presence of the dead, gathered a 
 confirmation of all Mrs. Yates had told him. 
 
 The paper had grown yellow since it was blotted with 
 the tears of a woman he had once loved. No wonder it 
 shook his hand as he read. 
 
 "And this girl, my daughter, where is she?" he cried, 
 with a passionate outburst of grief. 
 
 The girl known as Lady Clara came out from the 
 shadows of the window curtains, and made an effort to 
 draw Caroline with her; but she shrank back and stood 
 alone, trembling violently. 
 
 "Papa!" 
 
 " Ob, my poor, poor child ! How will you bear this ? " 
 cried Lord Hope. 
 
 "Trust me, dear, dear papa for I will call you so.
 
 288 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Nothing can break my heart, if you and mamma Rachael 
 will love me yet ; for the rest, I am glad, so glad, that I am 
 no longer a lady, and am left without a guinea. This is to 
 be really free ! " 
 
 " Ah, poor child, how can we ever part with you ? " 
 
 " Your own daughter will not begrudge me a little love ; 
 and, after all, I do belong to mamma Rachael more than 
 she ever can. That is something. Besides, it is from me 
 that you must take your daughter, for I brought her here. 
 Ask her if I did not." 
 
 The young girl was smiling, but tears stood in her eyes, 
 and her lips quivered as she spoke. 
 
 " Come with me, father, and I will give you to her. It 
 is hard, but I will." 
 
 She led Lord Hope across the room, drew back the cur- 
 tain, and let in the soft gray light of that early dawn upon 
 the trembling young creature who stood there. 
 
 Lord Hope shook in all his limbs when he saw that face. 
 The eyes full of tears seemed to reproach him as hers had 
 on that fatal night. 
 
 He reached out his arms, with a convulsive heaving of 
 the chest, and faltered out : 
 
 " Forgive me ! forgive me ! for I have bitterly repented." 
 
 He did not kiss her he dared not even touch her fore- 
 head in that solemn presence ; but he laid one hand on her 
 head, rested his own upon it, asking that forgiveness of 
 God which her heart gave, but could only express by pa- 
 thetic silence. 
 
 Then the old woman came up to the window, and stood 
 there, waiting. 
 
 When Lord Hope fell back against the window-frame, 
 strengthless from excess of feeling, she laid a hand upon 
 the girl's shoulder, and, turning her face gently to the
 
 THE NEMESIS. 289 
 
 light, gazed upon it with tender scrutiny. Then she said ; 
 talking to herself : 
 
 " It is her face ! It is her face ! " 
 
 "And you are Daniel Yates' mother. How I shall love 
 you ! Oh, how I loved him ! " 
 
 Then the old woman's face began to quiver, and her 
 large gray eyes filled with the slow tears old age gives out 
 with such pain. 
 
 " Yes, child, you must love me a little for your mother's 
 sake." 
 
 "And for the sake of that good man, your son, who was 
 a father to me. How often he has told me that, if there 
 was anything grand or good in him, it came from the best 
 mother that ever lived ! ' Some day,' he once said, ' God 
 may be merciful and let you know her. Then remember 
 that she has nothing left but you.' I do remember it, and 
 no child ever loved a grandmother better than I will love 
 you.'' 
 
 The old woman lifted up her head from the gentle em- 
 brace thus offered her, and turned to her dead mistress. 
 
 A smile, soft as that hovering about that cold mouth, 
 came to her lips and eyes. 
 
 " God is very good to me. Are the angels telling you of 
 it, my old mistress, that you smile so ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE NEMESIS. 
 
 THE last tender words were still lingering on the lips of 
 Mrs. Yates, when the door opened and Lady Hope stood 
 upon the threshold.
 
 290 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 She had become restless beyond self-control in her own 
 room, and came back to the death-chamber, wondering what 
 detained her husband there so long. She had thrown the 
 lace shawl from her head entirely ; but it fell around her 
 shoulders, shading her bare white arms and beautiful neck, 
 which the amber-hued dress would otherwise have left un- 
 covered. Framed in the doorway she made an imperial 
 picture. 
 
 " My lord," she said, advancing to her husband, " what 
 detains you here so long ? " 
 
 Old Mrs. Yates stepped forward with a scared, wild look ; 
 a gleam of anger or fear, bright as fire, and fierce as a mar- 
 tyr's faith, shot into her eyes and broadened there. She 
 came close to Lady Hope, facing her, and laid one hand 
 heavily on her arm. 
 
 The haughty woman drew back, and would have shaken 
 the hand from her arm, but it clung there with a grip of 
 steel. 
 
 " Lord Hope, is this woman your wife ? " 
 
 " His wife ! Yes, old woman, I am his wife," cried 
 Kachael, pale with indignation ; " but who authorized you 
 to ask ? " 
 
 The old woman did not heed her scornfulness, but turned 
 her eyes upon Lord Hope, whose face was already white 
 with vague terror. 
 
 " Is she your wife the woman who was called Kachael 
 Closs ? " 
 
 " It is Lady Hope, my wife. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Because it was this woman who murdered your first 
 wife, Lady Carsefs daughter ! " 
 
 More than the stillness of death settled upon that room. 
 The two girls hushed their sobs, and clung closer together 
 in awful silence. The man and the woman, on whom these 
 words had fallen like a rock hurled from some great high
 
 THE NEMESIS. 291 
 
 stood living and human, but struck into marble by a single 
 blow. The man could not move ; the woman did not seem 
 to breathe. Hannah Yates went on, her voice low, but 
 ringing out clear and distinctly like a funeral knell : 
 
 " On the twenty-first of June, now more than fifteen 
 years ago, I saw you, Lord Hope, come out of a house in 
 Forty-third Street, in New York. 
 
 " You know the house, and can never forget who lived in 
 it. That day I had carried your child to see its mother, 
 and left word at home for my son, Daniel Yates, to go after 
 her ; for I had business with a woman at one of the theatres, 
 and was not sure of coming back in time. The woman I 
 expected to see was not there ; but it took me a long time 
 to walk back, and it was about ten o'clock when I reached 
 the house in Forty-third Street. Thinking it possible that 
 Daniel might not have come home from his work till late, I 
 was crossing the street to go in and inquire about the child, 
 when the front door opened, and you came down the steps, 
 with a fierce, angry air, such as I had seen many a time on 
 this side the water. I knew that your presence in that 
 house could have no peaceful meaning, and went over. I 
 had a latch-key, and did not need to ring. 
 
 " The hall was dark everything was still below ; but a 
 sound of weeping and moans of distress came from my 
 lady's chamber. I went up and found her in the dark, lying 
 across her bed, trembling dreadfully. She shrieked when I 
 bent over her, and it was not till I got a light that she would 
 be satisfied that it was only me. Then she sat up, and, in a 
 rapid way, told me that you had been there after the child, 
 and would have it but that the little creature had crept 
 away and could not be found anywhere in the house. 
 She must have got into 'the street, and you would find her, 
 or she might be lost. She begged me to go at once and look 
 for the child, and wanted to go with me ; but I would nofc 
 18
 
 292 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 let her do that. I took her arms from my neck for, in 
 her joy at seeing the old woman, she had flung them there 
 made her lie down on the bed, and went away, promising 
 to come back if I did not find the child ; but, if I did, it 
 was to be carried to my own house, as she was afraid to trust 
 it near her. With this understanding I left her to search 
 for. the little girl. 
 
 " She may have crept down to the basement door and be 
 hiding under the steps, I thought. Of course, the little 
 thing would be afraid to go out into the streets. So the 
 first thing I did was to run down into the area. In my 
 haste I had left the door ajar, and bethought myself to go 
 back and shut it, but while I was searching the area a 
 woman ran up the steps and, pushing the door open, went 
 into the house. 
 
 " At first I thought it was one of the servants, for they 
 all appeared to be out, but she had on a striped India shawl, 
 such as ladies wore in travelling, and a straw bonnet, from 
 which the veil had blown back. These were not things, 
 worn by servants ; besides, her air and walk convinced me 
 that this woman was of another class. As she entered the 
 door I saw her face for a single moment, but long enough to 
 show me that I had never seen it before, 
 
 " The child was not in the area. I rang the basement 
 bell, meaning to question the servants, but no one answered 
 it. Then I hesitated where to go next, and as I stood in 
 the shadow of the steps thinking the matter over, this same 
 woman came through the door, shut it without noise, and 
 ran down to the pavement. I saw her face clearly then, for 
 the street lamp was bright. It was that of the woman by 
 your side, Lord Hope." 
 
 Kachael Gloss turned a pallid face upon her husband. 
 
 " Will you permit this woman to go on ? Is this hideous
 
 THE NEMESIS. 293 
 
 lie a thing for my husband to encourage by his silence? 
 Who is this audacious woman ? " 
 
 Lord Hope attempted to speak, but his white lips seemed 
 frozen together. 
 
 " I am Hannah Yates, the nurse of that murdered lady . 
 the woman who has given fourteen years of her life, rather 
 than have scandal fall on the husband her foster-child loved, 
 or the awful truth reach her dear old mistress, who died, 
 thauk God, without knowing it." 
 
 " And you listen, my lord, to this woman, a confessed 
 murderer, and, no doubt, an escaped convict ? " 
 
 " He must listen, and he must believe ! How did I know 
 that he was in my lady's house that night, and the moment 
 of his leaving it ? How did I know the very words he used 
 in attempting to force the child from her? No human 
 being but himself and the poor lady, whose lips were cold 
 within an hour, knew of anything that passed between the 
 husband and wife the last time they ever met on earth." 
 
 " But you might have overheard no doubt were listening 
 if my lord was indeed in that place at all. This is no 
 evidence, even if a woman, convicted by her own confession 
 of a crime she now seeks to cast upon another, could bear 
 witness." 
 
 Kachael Gloss spoke out clearly now, and her eyes, shining 
 with the ferocity of a wild animal at bay, turned full upon 
 the old woman who accused her. 
 
 The old woman put a hand into her bosom and drew out 
 a small poniard. Eachael Gloss gave a sharp gasp, and 
 snatched at the poniard, but the old woman held it firmly. 
 
 "Lord Hope, this has been in your hands a hundred 
 times. When did you part with it ? To what person did 
 you give it ? Your crest is on the handle ; her blood rusts 
 the blade."
 
 294 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 Lord Hope lifted both hands to conceal the horror that 
 was on his face, to shut out the weapon from his sight. 
 
 " Oh ! my God ! my God ! spare me more of this ! " 
 
 The proud noble was shaking from head to foot. The 
 veins swelled purple on his forehead. The sight of that 
 slender weapon swept away his last doubt. Lady Hope 
 shrank back from his side, but watched him keenly in her 
 agony of guilt and dread. Her proud figure withered down, 
 her features were locked and hard, but out of their pallor her 
 great eyes shone with terrible brilliancy. Her husband's 
 hands dropped at last, and he turned a look of such despairing 
 anguish upon her that a cry broke from her lips. 
 
 " You you condemn me ? " 
 
 Lord Hope turned from her, shuddering. 
 
 " You know ! you know ! " 
 
 He remembered giving her this poniard on the very day 
 of her crime. He had been in the habit of carrying it with 
 him when travelling, and though sharp as a viper's tongue, 
 it, with the daintily enamelled sheath, was a pretty table 
 ornament, and she had begged it of him for a paper cutter. 
 He had seen the sheath since, but never the poniard, and 
 now the sight of it .was a blow through the heart. 
 
 " I picked it up by her bed that morning, after the mur- 
 der. There is a person in the castle who saw me take it 
 from the place where it had fallen. If any one here doubts 
 me, let them ask a person called Margaret Casey let them 
 ask her." 
 
 That moment the door of the room opened, and Hepworth 
 Gloss stood on the threshold. He had been informed of 
 Lady Carset's illness, just as he was leaving the castle, and 
 came back only to hear that she was gone. The scene upon 
 which he looked was something worse than a death-chamber. 
 
 " Ask him if he did not see this poniard in her room while 
 she lay uuburied in the house."
 
 THE NEMESIS. 
 
 Eachael turned her eyes upon her brother those great, 
 pleading eyes, which were fast taking an expression of pa- 
 thetic agony, like those of a hunted doe. 
 
 " And you and you ! " she said, with a cry of pain that 
 thrilled the heart of her wretched husband. " Has all the 
 world turned against me ? Old woman, what have I ever 
 done to you that you should hunt me down so ? " 
 
 Hepworth Gloss came forward and threw an arm around 
 his sister's waist. 
 
 " What is it, Rachael ? Who is hunting you down ? " 
 he said, tenderly. No one shall hurt you while I am near." 
 
 She turned, threw her arms around his neck, and covered 
 his face with passionate kisses. Then she turned to Lord 
 Hope, held out her pale hands imploringly ; and cried out in 
 pathetic anguish : 
 
 " Oh, do not believe it ! Do not believe ft ! " 
 
 But Lord Hope stepped back, and turned away his face. 
 She knew that this motion was her doom. 
 
 " Let me look at the poniard," she said, with unnatural 
 gentleness. " I have a right to examine the proofs brought 
 against me." 
 
 Hannah Yates gave her the dagger. She looked at it 
 earnestly a moment, laid one hand upon her heart, as if its 
 beating stifled her, then lifted the other and struck. 
 
 "Now, my husband, will you kiss me? I have given 
 them blood for blood, life for life ! " 
 
 "She fell in a heap at her husband's feet, and while 
 death glazed over her eyes, reached up her arms to him. 
 
 He fell upon his knees, forgetting everything but the one 
 dreadful fact that she was his wife, and dying. His face 
 drooped to hers, for the lips were moving, and her eyes turn- 
 ed upon him with pathetic anxiety. 
 
 " It was love for you that led me to it only that Oh, 
 believe beli "
 
 296 THE OLD' COUNTESS. 
 
 "I do ! I do ! " he cried out, in fearful anguish. " God 
 forgive me, and have mercy on you ! " 
 
 She struggled, lifted up her arms, drew his lips close to 
 hers, and over them floated the last icy breath that Rachael 
 Gloss ever drew. 
 
 Then the young girl, who had loved this woman better 
 than anything on earth, sank to the floor, and took that pale 
 head in her lap, moaning over it piteously. 
 
 " My poor mamma! my darling mother ! Speak to me ! 
 Open your eyes ! It is Clara your own, own child ! Her 
 eyelids close her lips are falling apart ! Oh ! my God, is 
 she dead ? " 
 
 She looked piteously in the face of Hepworth Gloss, who 
 had knelt by her side, and asked this question over and 
 over again : 
 
 " Is she dead ? Oh, tell me, is she dead ? " 
 
 Hepworth Gloss bent down, and touched his lips to the 
 cold forehead of his sister ; then he lifted Clara from the 
 floor, and half led her, half carrred her, from the room. 
 
 Then Lord Hope stood up and turned, with a shudder, to 
 the old woman, who had been to him and his a fearful 
 Nemesis. 
 
 " Hannah Yates," he said, " you have suffered much, 
 concealed much, and, from your own confession, are not 
 without sin." 
 
 " True, true," murmured the old woman. " I have sin- 
 ned grievously." 
 
 " Therefore, you should have shown more mercy to this 
 unhappy woman. But the suffering and the wrong was 
 done to shield this girl from what you thought an evil in- 
 fluence, and save from reproach two noble houses, to which 
 she belongs for her face tells me that your story is true. 
 Spare the memory of this most unfortunate, if sinful woman. 
 Spare the high name and noble pride of the old countess,
 
 THE NEMESIS. 297 
 
 who beseeches you her very face seems to change as I 
 speak for silence and forgetful ness. That which you 
 have done in love, continue in mercy. Let this miserable 
 scene, with all that led to it, rest in sacred silence among us. 
 The persons who have suffered most are now before a tribunal 
 where no evidence of yours is wanted. Look on your old 
 mistress," he continued, pointing toward the death couch, 
 " and let her sweet face plead with you. Had she lived " 
 
 " Had she lived," said the old woman, " I should not 
 have spoken. Death itself would not have wrung from me 
 one word of what her daughter suffered. But the woman 
 who murdered her came suddenly before me. It was a 
 power beyond my poor will that made me speak ; but here- 
 after no word of this shall ever pass my lips. No evil story 
 of suffering or bloodshed shall ever go forth about a lady of 
 Houghton while I can prevent it." 
 
 Lord Hope bent his head, and made an effort to thank 
 her, but he could not speak. 
 
 " Leave me now," said the old woman. " Let no servants 
 come near these apartments, save two that can be trusted 
 here with me. Some one send Margaret Casey and Eliza, 
 her sister, here. Now leave me, Lord Hope, and you, Lady 
 Carset. You can trust the old woman alone with these 
 two." 
 
 Before noon, that day, it was known in all the country 
 around that the old countess, Lady Carset, lay in funeral state 
 in the royal guest-chamber at Houghton Castle, for the long 
 red flag was floating half-way down its staff, and a hatch- 
 ment hung in mournful gorgeousness over the principal 
 entrance between those two massive towers. 
 
 But farther than the flag could be seen, and swift as the 
 wiud that stirred it, "went the strange story that the beauti- 
 ful Lady Hope had been seized with a violent hemorrhage
 
 298 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 of the lungs while standing by the death couch of the old 
 countess, and had died before help could be obtained. 
 
 After this, another wild rumor took wing. The young 
 lady who had been some weeks at the castle was only an 
 adopted daughter of Lord Hope, and, consequently could 
 not become heiress of Houghton under the will or by entail. 
 The daughter and heiress was at the castle, stricken down 
 with grief at the double loss that had fallen upon her since 
 her arrival from abroad, where she had been educated. 
 With a feeling of delicacy that did her honor she had 
 declined to appear as the acknowledged heiress at the festi- 
 val given to Lady Hope, feeling that it might interfere with 
 her grandmother's independent action with regard to the 
 vast property at her disposal, if she allowed herself to be 
 proclaimed thus early as the chosen heiress, which she now 
 undoubtedly was. The will had been read, and, with the 
 exception of a considerable legacy to Caroline Brown, the 
 adopted daughter, and provisions for the servants, young 
 Lady Carset came in for everything. 
 
 Alderman Stacy took this story back to America, and 
 described his reception at Houghton Castle with such glow- 
 ing colors when the assembled board were at supper one 
 night, in a pleasant, social way that one of the fathers 
 proposed forthwith to draw up a resolution of thanks to 
 young Lady Carset for the hospitality extended to their 
 illustrious compeer, and forward it, with " the liberty of the 
 city, under the great seal of New York." At the next 
 meeting of the board this resolution was carried unani- 
 mously in fact, with acclamation. 
 
 Months went by, twelve or more, and then the trees 
 around that grand old stronghold blazed out with lights 
 again. Two fountains shot their liquid brightness over the 
 stone terrace, at which the people from far and near came 
 to drink. One sent up crystal, and rained down diamonds,
 
 THE NEMESIS. 299 
 
 as it had done that night when the old countess died. The 
 other, being of wine, shot up a column of luminous red into 
 the air, and came down in a storm of rubies. 
 
 The people, who caught the red drops on their lips, and 
 dipped the sparkling liquid up with silver ladles, knew that 
 a double wedding was going on in the castle, and clamored 
 loudly for a sight of their lady and her bridegroom. 
 
 After a little, the windows along the facade of the build- 
 ing were thrown back, and a gay throng poured itself into 
 a broad balcony, that projected a little over the stone terrace, 
 where the wine was flowing, and the eager people crowding 
 forward for the first look. 
 
 Foremost came Lord Hilton, leading Clara Lady Carset 
 by the hand. Then Hepworth Closs stepped forth, and 
 on his arm a bright, sparkling little figure, in a cloud of 
 gauzy silk, and crowned with white roses, who smiled and 
 kissed her hand to the crowd, while her little feet kept time, 
 and almost danced, to the music, which broke from terrace 
 and covert as the bridal party appeared. 
 
 Standing a little back, near one of the windows, stood 
 two gentlemen, one very old and stricken in years, who 
 leaned heavily on his cane, and looked smilingly down upon 
 the multitude swaying in front of the castle ; 'and well he 
 might, for two of the finest estates in England had been 
 joined that day, and from horizon to horizon stretched the 
 united lands which the children of his grandson would 
 inherit. 
 
 The other gentleman, standing there with the sad, worn 
 face was Lord Hope, who leaned heavily against the window- 
 frame, and looked afar off over the heads of the multitude 
 wearily, wearily, as if the days of marrying and giving in 
 marriage were all a blank to him. When the young bride, 
 who had given up her name, title and fortune willingly to
 
 300 THE OLD COUNTESS. 
 
 another, came up to him at the window, she laid her hand 
 tenderly on his arm, whispering : 
 
 "Farewell, father, farewell ! I am not the less your child 
 because of the blue blood, for she cannot love you better 
 than I do. Will you not shake hands with my husband, 
 father?" 
 
 Lord Hope lifted his heavy eyes to Hepworth Gloss, saw 
 the features of another, whom no one ever mentioned now, 
 in that face, flung both arms about the bridegroom, shaking 
 from head to foot with tearless sobs. 
 
 A little while after a carriage drove from Houghton to 
 the station, and in two days a steamer sailed with Hepworth 
 Gloss and his wife, with that kind and faithful man, her 
 father, for New York. 
 
 Just as they were about to sail, an old woman came 
 quietly into the second-class cabin, paid her passage, and 
 rested there, never coming on deck till the steamer landed. 
 Then she gathered up her effects in a carpet-bag and went 
 ashore. 
 
 That night a fire blazed on the hearth at Cedar Cottage, 
 and the dilapidated furniture in the various rooms was 
 arranged in the kitchen. 
 
 About six months after, this old woman was found dead 
 upon an iron bedstead up-stairs, and the neighbors held a 
 consultation about burying her at the expense of the town ; 
 but, on searching the rooms, plenty of English gold was 
 found to have kept her comfortable for years. Then some 
 one remembered that a convict, discharged from the prison 
 not many years ago, was said to be the mother of Daniel 
 Yates, a good man and excellent citizen, and they decided 
 to bury the poor old convict by his side. 
 
 There is a very prosperous firm in New York, which has 
 stood the shock of gold corners, and railway crashes, with
 
 THE NEMESIS. 301 
 
 the firm resistance of heavy capital and business integrity. 
 It is the firm of Gloss & Brown. 
 
 The younger member is an active, shrewd, generous man, 
 full of resources, aud capable of wonderful combinations. 
 
 The other superintends the in-door business, and makes 
 himself very useful, in a quiet sort of way, in keeping 
 things straight no unimportant position in a business 
 house, let me assure you. 
 
 As for Caroline Mrs. Hepworth Gloss you may see her, 
 any fine day, dashing faster than the law allows, along the 
 avenues of Central Park, holding a pair of white ponies 
 well in hand, while she chats and laughs with her husband, 
 glorying in him, and exulting in the freedom which she 
 gained in losing a grand title and estate. 
 
 THE END. 
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