at half-past nine for Euston. Will that do?"

"Perfectly."

Greswell, the handsome groom of the chambers, approached Julie.

"Your grace's maid wishes to know whether it is your grace's wish that
she should go round to Heribert Street before taking the luggage
to Euston?"

Julie looked at the man, bewildered. Then a stormy color rushed into her
cheeks.

"Does he mean my maid?" she said to the Duke, piteously.

"Certainly. Will you give your orders?"

She gave them, and then, turning again to the Duke, she covered her eyes
with her hands a moment.

"What does it all mean?" she said, faltering. "It seems as though we
were all mad."

"You understand, of course, that Jacob succeeds?" said the Duke, not
without coldness; and he stood still an instant, gazing at this woman,
who must now, he supposed, feel herself at the very summit of her
ambitions.

Julie drew a long breath. Then she perceived Lady Henry. Instantly,
impetuously, she crossed the room. But as she reached that composed and
formidable figure, the old timidity, the old fear, seized her. She
paused abruptly, but she held out her hand.

Lady Henry took it. The two women stood regarding each other, while the
other persons in the room instinctively turned away from their meeting.
Lady Henry's first look was one of curiosity. Then, before the
indefinable, ennobling change in Julie's face, now full of the pale
agitation of memory, the eyes of the older woman wavered and dropped.
But she soon recovered herself.

"We meet again under very strange circumstances," she said, quietly;
"though I have long foreseen them. As for our former experience, we were
in a false relation, and it made fools of us both. You and Jacob are now
the heads of the family. And if you like to make friends with me on this
new footing, I am ready. As to my behavior, I think it was natural; but
if it rankles in your mind, I apologize."

The personal pride of the owner, curbed in its turn by the pride of
tradition and family, spoke strangely from these words. Julie stood
trembling, her chest heaving.

"I, too, regret--and apologize," she said, in a low voice.

"Then we begin again. But now you must let Evelyn take you to rest for
an hour or two. I am sorry you have this hurried journey to-night."

Julie pressed her hands to her breast with one of those dramatic
movements that were natural to her.

"Oh, I must see Jacob!" she said, under her breath--"I must see Jacob!"

And she