rhaps. The inevitable footman received his
card, with the faintest _soupcon_ of a grin, and conducted him to the
drawing-room.

Lady Vivian entered a few moments afterwards. She was delighted to see
him,--very flattered at his visit. When did he come to London? Would he
make a long stay? How did he leave their friends in Brittany?

Maurice replied as composedly as possible to her inquiries, and then
asked, "May I be allowed to see Mademoiselle de Gramont?"

"Mademoiselle de Gramont!" exclaimed Lady Vivian, raising her bushy
eyebrows.

"Yes, she is with you. She is engaged as your humble companion,--is she
not?"

"No, I have not the pleasure of her acquaintance."

If a bullet had passed through Maurice, he could not have sprung from
his seat with a wilder bound, and hardly have dropped back more
motionless.

Lady Vivian looked at him in amazement,--asked what had happened. Was he
ill? Would he take anything? He had been very much fatigued, perhaps. He
was so very pale! She felt quite alarmed; really it was distressing.

Making a desperate effort to recover from the stunning blow, he faltered
out, "I heard that you made Mademoiselle de Gramont a proposition to"--

"To become my humble companion? Yes, I did so at the request of Count
Damoreau. But she definitely declined, and I felt much relieved, for she
was entirely too handsome for that position. Shortly afterward I heard
of a young person who suited me much better. I thought it was a mistake
of the footman's, last night, when he said you desired to see the young
lady who accompanied me. It was somewhat singular to have one's humble
companion included in a visit to one's self! Now I comprehend that you
thought she was your cousin. I hope you are feeling better; your color
is coming again."

Maurice was not listening. He had lost Madeleine anew. The agony of a
second bereavement, the mystery that enveloped her fate, the dreadful
uncertainty of tracing her, pressed upon him and rent his soul with
fiercer throes than before. Muttering some hurried apology, he rose,
staggered toward the door, and, to the amazement of the stoical footman,
who was greatly scandalized thereby, the pertinacious stranger fairly
reeled past him into the street.

CHAPTER XI.

PURSUIT.

Maurice, when he took his abrupt leave of Lady Vivian, did not return to
the hotel. He felt as though he could not breathe, could not exist, shut
within four walls, with the oppressive weigh