arlor, and was at her, the
governess's, especial command. She took away the things, and then Lady
Isabel sat on alone. For how long, she scarcely knew, when a sound
caused her heart to beat as if it would burst its bounds, and she
started from her chair like one who has received an electric shock.

It was nothing to be startled at either--for ordinary people--for it
was but the sound of children's voices. _Her_ children! Were they being
brought in to her? She pressed her hand upon her heaving bosom.

No; they were but traversing the hall, and the voices faded away up the
wide staircase. Perhaps they had been in to desert, as in the old times,
and were now going up to bed. She looked at her new watch--half past
seven.

Her _new_ watch. The old one had been changed away for it. All her
trinkets had been likewise parted with, sold or exchanged away, lest
they should be recognized at East Lynne. Nothing whatever had she kept
except her mother's miniature and a small golden cross, set with
its seven emeralds. Have you forgotten that cross? Francis Levison
accidentally broke it for her, the first time they ever met. If she had
looked upon the breaking of that cross which her mother had enjoined her
to set such store by, as an evil omen, at the time of the accident, how
awfully had the subsequent events seemed to bear her fancy out! These
two articles--the miniature and the cross--she could not bring her mind
to part with. She had sealed them up, and placed them in the remotest
spot of her dressing-case, away from all chance of public view. Peter
entered.

"My mistress says, ma'am, she would be glad to see you, if you are not
too tired. Will you please to walk into the drawing-room?"

A mist swam before her eyes. Was she about to enter the presence of Mrs.
Carlyle? Had the moment really come? She moved to the door, which Peter
held open. She turned her head from the man, for she could feel how ashy
white were her face and lips.

"Is Mrs. Carlyle alone?" she asked, in a subdued voice. The most
indirect way she could put the question, as to whether Mr. Carlyle was
there.

"Quite alone, ma'am. My master is dining out to-day. Madame Vine, I
think?" he added, waiting to announce her, as, the hall traversed, he
laid his hand on the drawing-room door.

"Madame Vine," she said, correcting him. For Peter had spoken the name,
Vine, broadly, according to our English habitude; she set him right, and
pronounced it _a la mode Fran