es."

"Yes, I will take some wine and bread before I go--it will make me
strong; but not here! not here!"

Again the old countess turned to that letter, motioning with her hand
that Yates should stay; but the old woman did not see that gentle motion
of the hand--her eyes, also, were full of tears.

When the Countess of Carset had thrice perused her daughter's letter,
she laid it down, and resting her hand tenderly upon it, fell into
thought.

She was a proud but just woman, on whose haughty power old age had
fallen like dew, softening all that was imperious, and shading down
strong personal pride into thoughtful mercy.

But for some injustice that she had to repent of, this simple,
affectionate letter, coming as it were from the grave, would have
aroused nothing but tender grief. It contained no complaint of the man
she had married--did not even mention the governess, who now filled her
place; and the possibility that she had terribly wronged these two
persons dawned steadily upon her.

She looked up at last, and spoke to Hannah Yates; but there was no
answer. The old woman was on her road to the railroad station, burdened
only with a secret she dared not reveal, and the gold which had been
saved with the diamonds.

CHAPTER XV.

THE EARL'S RETURN.

Days passed, and Caroline heard nothing of the new friend she had made;
but one day Eliza brought her a letter which had come, inclosed in one
from Margaret, who had left town with her mistress so suddenly that she
found no time to say farewell.

This was the letter which broke down so many hopes for the unhappy girl:

"MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND--

"For that you always will be, so long as I have a pulse in my
heart or a purpose in my brain! It does not require an eternity
for two young girls like us to become firm friends; but it will
take more than that to destroy the faith and love we feel for
each other. I know that you will believe every word that I say,
though I may be compelled to seem cruel and faithless. I cannot
come to see you. They tell me it might offend my father. I
cannot ask you to his house, because it _is_ his, and I have no
authority in it. But the time will come when I shall have a
house of my own, and then no guest shall be so honored. Why do
I love you so? Is it that I remember something? Or has any
person told me that you and I have slept in each other's arms,
and breathed upon t