bout, that for a minute or two
I did not observe a tall woman, in a grey silk and a black velvet mantle,
and quite a nice new Parisian bonnet. You will be _charmed_, by-the-by,
with the new shape--it is only out three weeks, and is quite
_indescribably_ elegant, _I_ think, at least. They have them, I am sure, by
this time at Molnitz's, so I need say no more. And now that I am on this
subject of dress, I have got your lace; and I think you will be very
ungrateful if you are not _charmed_ with it." Well, I need not read all
that--here is the rest;' and she read--

'"But you'll ask about my mysterious _dame_ in the new bonnet and velvet
mantle; she was sitting on a stool at the counter, not buying, but
evidently selling a quantity of stones and trinkets which she had in a
card-box, and the man was picking them up one by one, and, I suppose,
valuing them. I was near enough to see such a darling little pearl cross,
with at least half a dozen really good pearls in it, and had begun to covet
them for my set, when the lady glanced over my shoulder, and she
knew me--in fact, we knew one another--and who do you think she was?
Well--you'll not guess in a week, and I can't wait so long; so I may as
well tell you at once--she was that horrid old Mademoiselle Blassemare whom
you pointed out to me at Elverston; and I never forgot her face since--nor
she, it seems, mine, for she turned away very quickly, and when I next saw
her, her veil was down."'

'Did not you tell me, Maud, that you had lost your pearl cross while that
dreadful Madame de la Rougierre was here?'

'Yes; but--'

'I know; but what has she to do with Mademoiselle de Blassemare, you were
going to say--they are one and the same person.'

'Oh, I perceive,' answered I, with that dim sense of danger and dismay with
which one hears suddenly of an enemy of whom one has lost sight for a time.

'I'll write and tell Georgie to buy that cross. I wager my life it is
yours,' said Lady Knollys, firmly.

The servants, indeed, made no secret of their opinion of Madame de la
Rougierre, and frankly charged her with a long list of larcenies. Even Anne
Wixted, who had enjoyed her barren favour while the gouvernante was here,
hinted privately that she had bartered a missing piece of lace belonging to
me with a gipsy pedlar, for French gloves and an Irish poplin.

'And so surely as I find it is yours, I'll set the police in pursuit.'

'But you must not bring me into court,' said I,