Tyrol. Would he, Lord Lovel, follow them? Would he follow them and
be constant in his suit, even though the frantic girl should still
talk of her tailor lover? If he would do so, as far as money was
concerned, all should be in common with them. For what was the money
wanted but that the Lovels might be great and noble and splendid? He
said that he would do so. He also loved the girl,--thought at least
during the tenderness created by her illness that he loved her with
all his heart. He sat hour after hour with the Countess in Keppel
Street,--sometimes seeing the girl as she lay unconscious, or
feigning that she was so; till at last he was daily at her bedside.
"You had better not talk to him, Anna," her mother would say, "but of
course he is anxious to see you." Then the Earl would kiss her hand,
and in her mother's presence she had not the courage,--perhaps she
had not the strength,--to withdraw it. In these days the Countess was
not cruelly stern as she had been. Bedside nursing hardly admits of
such cruelty of manner. But she never spoke to her child with little
tender endearing words, never embraced her,--but was to her a careful
nurse rather than a loving mother.

Then by degrees the girl got better, and was able to talk. "Mamma,"
she said one day, "won't you sit by me?"

"No, my dear; you should not be encouraged to talk."

"Sit by me, and let me hold your hand." For a moment the Countess
gave way, and sat by her daughter, allowing her hand to remain
pressed beneath the bedclothes;--but she rose abruptly, remembering
her grievance, remembering that it would be better that her child
should die, should die broken-hearted by unrelenting cruelty, than be
encouraged to think it possible that she should do as she desired. So
she rose abruptly and left the bedside without a word.

"Mamma," said Lady Anna; "will Lord Lovel be here to-day?"

"I suppose he will be here."

"Will you let me speak to him for a minute?"

"Surely you may speak to him."

"I am strong now, mamma, and I think that I shall be well again some
day. I have so often wished that I might die."

"You had better not talk about it, my dear."

"But I should like to speak to him, mamma, without you."

"What to say,--Anna?"

"I hardly know;--but I should like to speak to him. I have something
to say about money."

"Cannot I say it?"

"No, mamma. I must say it myself,--if you will let me." The Countess
looked at her girl with suspicion, but sh