can tell when they may
return."

Maurice, though he could not interpret the count's singular manner,
could not even remotely divine the meaning of its abruptness and
confusion, felt himself checked in his proposed communication. He
experienced no uneasiness; he had not the faintest conception that the
count was dealing doubly with him, and that his very first act, on
reaching Washington, had been to mortgage the estate of his son for so
large amount that, but for the advent of the railroad, upon which he
confidently calculated, the mortgage must prove ruinous to the
interests of the landholder.

Had Maurice been aware of this fact, he would not for a moment have
contemplated delivering to Mr. Emerson Mr. Lorrillard's letter, in which
it was distinctly stated that the property of the viscount was without
lien.

Further discussion between the father and son was prevented by the
entrance of the countess, accompanied by Lord Linden, and followed by
Bertha and Gaston de Bois.

Maurice, as he saluted his grandmother, was gratified to observe that,
albeit her air was by no means less stately, it was more satisfied and
complacent. Though titled nobility had no native existence in the
semi-civilized land, she rejoiced to find that it was sometimes
_imported_. She had at last encountered an individual with whom she
could associate without derogation. The French, as all the world knows,
have a national antipathy towards the English; but a nobleman, even
though he chanced to be an Englishman, was hailed by the Countess de
Gramont, upon American soil, as a God-send. Lord Linden was not aware of
the compliment implied by the unwonted graciousness of her demeanor, and
the tone of _almost_ equality in which she addressed him.

Maurice comprehended the altered expression that softened his
grandmother's countenance, but was struck and amazed by the wonderful
radiance of Bertha's face. Her eyes shone as though a veritable sun
lived behind those azure heavens, and almost annihilated their color by
its brightness; her lips were eloquent with a voiceless happiness they
did not care to hide, yet could not speak; the laughing dimples played
perpetually about her softly suffused cheeks; her elastic feet almost
danced, so airy was their tread; about her whole presence there was a
buoyant glow that seemed to encompass her with an atmosphere of light
and warmth.

She had not attempted to disguise her joy on again meeting Gaston de
Bois;