examine the state of Lady Isabel, not cursorily,
they found there would be no absolute necessity for the operation
contemplated. Fond as the French surgeons are of the knife, to resort to
it in this instance would have been cruel, and they proceeded to other
means of cure.

The letter was duly delivered at the town house of Lord Mount Severn,
where it was addressed. The countess was sojourning there for a few
days; she had quitted it after the season, but some business, or
pleasure, had called her again to town. Lord Vane was with her, but the
earl was in Scotland. They were at breakfast, she and her son, when the
letter was brought in: eighteen pence to pay. Its scrawled address, its
foreign aspect, its appearance, altogether, excited her curiosity; in
her own mind, she believed she had dropped upon a nice little conjugal
mare's nest.

"I shall open this," cried she.

"Why, it is addressed to papa!" exclaimed Lord Vane who possessed all
his father's notions of honor.

"But such an odd letter! It may require an immediate answer; or is some
begging petition, perhaps. Get on with your breakfast."

Lady Mount Severn opened the letter, and with some difficulty spelt
through its contents. They shocked even her.

"How dreadful!" she uttered, in the impulse of the moment.

"What is dreadful?" asked Lord Vane, looking up from his breakfast.

"Lady Isabel--Isabel Vane--you have not forgotten her?"

"Forgotten her!" he echoed. "Why, mamma, I must possess a funny memory
to have forgotten her already."

"She is dead. She has been killed in a railway accident in France."

His large blue eyes, honest and true as they had been in childhood,
filled, and his face flushed. He said nothing, for emotion was strong
within him.

"But, shocking as it is, it is better for her," went on the countess;
"for, poor creature what could her future life had been?"

"Oh, don't say it!" impetuously broke out the young viscount. "Killed in
a railway accident, and for you to say that it is better for her!"

"So it is better," said the countess. "Don't go into heroics, William.
You are quite old enough to know that she had brought misery upon
herself, and disgrace upon all connected with her. No one could ever
have taken notice of her again."

"I would," said the boy, stoutly.

Lady Mount Severn smiled derisively.

"I would. I never liked anybody in the world half so much as I liked
Isabel."

"That's past and gone. You would not have