hat was their
consternation on finding the countess herself standing in the door-way!
Her countenance was perfectly appalling in its white, distorted wrath.
She strode toward the two abashed domestics, and cried out, in a voice
which broke the count's slumbers, and caused him to sit up in his chair
with terror-dilated eyes,--

"Woman! What is the meaning of this? Of whom are you talking? Whose
silver is that?" (pointing savagely to the salver.) "And who are you?"

Mrs. Lawkins was dumb.

"Am I to be answered?" demanded the countess, imperiously.

Then she turned to Robert. "Whose silver is that? Whose silver did you
say was missing?"

"Mademoiselle de Gramont's," Robert faltered out.

"And Mademoiselle de Gramont has the unparalleled audacity to send her
silver here for my use? Do you mean to tell me that this salver and what
it contains are from her?"

Robert could not answer.

"Great heaven! that I should endure this! That Madeleine de Gramont
should have the insolence to _force_ her _bounty_ by stealth upon me,
and that I should not have suspected her at once! Remove that salver out
of my sight, and if you ever dare"--

Mrs. Lawkins had now partially recovered her self-possession, and
interrupted the countess politely but very firmly,--

"Madame, you will do M. de Gramont great injury. Do you not see that you
are exciting him by this violence?"

"_Who_ are you that you dare dictate to me? Leave this house instantly!
Were you sent here by Mademoiselle de Gramont to institute an
_espionage_ over me and my family? Go and tell your mistress that
neither she nor anything that belongs to her shall ever again defile my
dwelling! I shall watch better in future! I will not be snared by her
low arts, her contemptible impostures!"

Mrs. Lawkins, though she was a mild woman, loved Madeleine too well to
hear her mentioned disrespectfully without being roused to indignation;
affection for her mistress overcame her awe of the countess, and she
replied with feeling,--

"She is the noblest lady that ever walked the earth to bless it! and her
only art is the practise of goodness! Those who are turning upon her and
reviling her ought to be on their knees before her this blessed moment!
Didn't she nurse that poor gentleman night and day, as though he had
been her own father? Did she not bear all the slights put upon her by
those who are not half as good as she?--yes, that are not worthy to wipe
the dust from her holy fe