Hope gave to me, and
another that she wrote to you on the day of her death. Poor, poor lady!
She was very sad that morning, and would undertake the letter at once.
God seemed to warn her of what would happen in the next twenty-four
hours."

Lord Hope took the papers which the old woman handed to him, and there,
in the presence of the dead, gathered a confirmation of all Mrs. Yates
had told him.

The paper had grown yellow since it was blotted with the tears of a
woman he had once loved. No wonder it shook his hand as he read.

"And this girl, my daughter, where is she?" he cried, with a passionate
outburst of grief.

The girl known as Lady Clara came out from the shadows of the window
curtains, and made an effort to draw Caroline with her; but she shrank
back and stood alone, trembling violently.

"Papa!"

"Oh, my poor, poor child! How will you bear this?" cried Lord Hope.

"Trust me, dear, dear papa--for I will call you so. Nothing can break
my heart, if you and mamma Rachael will love me yet; for the rest, I am
glad, so glad, that I am no longer a lady, and am left without a guinea.
This is to be really free!"

"Ah, poor child, how can we ever part with you?"

"Your own daughter will not begrudge me a little love; and, after all, I
do belong to mamma Rachael more than she ever can. That is something.
Besides, it is from me that you must take your daughter, for I brought
her here. Ask her if I did not."

The young girl was smiling, but tears stood in her eyes, and her lips
quivered as she spoke.

"Come with me, father, and I will give you to her. It is hard, but I
will."

She led Lord Hope across the room, drew back the curtain, and let in the
soft gray light of that early dawn upon the trembling young creature who
stood there.

Lord Hope shook in all his limbs when he saw that face. The eyes full of
tears seemed to reproach him as _hers_ had on that fatal night.

He reached out his arms, with a convulsive heaving of the chest, and
faltered out:

"Forgive me! forgive me! for I have bitterly repented."

He did not kiss her--he dared not even touch her forehead in that solemn
presence; but he laid one hand on her head, rested his own upon it,
asking that forgiveness of God which her heart gave, but could only
express by pathetic silence.

Then the old woman came up to the window, and stood there, waiting.

When Lord Hope fell back against the window-frame, strengthless from
excess of feeling, she