s sitting in her drawing-room, evidently in a state of
high excitement, when Bertha and Gaston entered. Count Tristan appeared
to be endeavoring to palliate his recent conduct by a series of
contradictory statements, and a garbled explanation of the events which
had placed Maurice in a dubious position; but his mother had sufficient
shrewdness to detect that his object was to deceive, not to enlighten
her.

The appearance of Bertha and Gaston gave inexpressible relief to the
count, and his satisfaction betrayed itself in a singularly unnatural
and childish manner. He kissed Bertha on both cheeks as though he had
not seen her for a long period, asked her how she did, shook hands
warmly with Gaston as if they had not parted a couple of hours before,
offered them chairs, put his arm about Bertha, and drew her to him, as
though he were making her his shield against some imaginary assailant.

"What is the meaning of this prolonged absence, Bertha?" demanded the
countess, without appearing to notice M. de Bois. "Where have you been?
Why did you not return immediately? Where is Maurice?"

"The day was so fine," answered Bertha, trying to speak with some show
of dignity and composure, but failing lamentably, "that I thought I
would enjoy a walk in the capitol grounds. We met Lady Augusta and Lord
Linden. Maurice did not return with us."

"Are you aware of the singular impropriety of your behavior,
Mademoiselle de Merrivale? Is it possible that a niece of mine can have
become so perfectly regardless of all the rules of decorum?"

"Will you excuse me for the present, aunt?" interrupted Bertha,
retreating toward the door in a rather cowardly fashion. "I leave M. de
Bois to--M. de Bois wishes to"--

Gaston had risen and opened the door for her to pass, with as much
self-possession as though bashfulness had not been the tormenting evil
genius of his existence. His look reassured her, and, without finishing
her sentence, she disappeared.

The countess rose with even more than her wonted stateliness, and was
about to follow her niece; but M. de Bois, pretending not to perceive
her intention, closed the door and said,--

"There is a communication which I desire to have the honor of making to
Madame de Gramont and Count Tristan."

"You can make no communication to which I feel disposed to listen,"
answered the countess haughtily, and advancing toward the door.

"I regret to hear the aunt of Mademoiselle de Merrivale say so, a