ncerity
little credit was due to her--but some little was perhaps due. That she
should be called Madam Gordeloup, and have compliments presented to her
by the woman--by the countess with whom and with whose husband she had
been on such closely familiar terms, did in truth wound some tender
feelings within her breast. Such love as she had been able to give, she
had given to her Julie. That she had always been willing to rob her
Julie--to make a milch-cow of her Julie--to sell her Julie--to threaten
her Julie--to quarrel with her Julie, if aught might be done in that
way--to expose her Julie--nay, to destroy her Julie, if money was to be
made--all this did not hinder her love. She loved her Julie, and was
broken-hearted that her Julie should have written to her in such a
strain.

But her feelings were much more acute when she came to perceive that she
had damaged her own affairs by the hint of a menace which she had thrown
out. Business is business, and must take precedence of all sentiment and
romance in this hard world in which bread is so necessary. Of that Madam
Gordeloup was well aware. And therefore, having given herself but two
short minutes to weep over her Julie's hardness, she applied her mind at
once to the rectification of the error she had made. Yes, she had been
wrong about the lawyer--certainly wrong. But then these English people
were so pig-headed! A slight suspicion of a hint, such as that she had
made, would have been taken by a Frenchman, by a Russian, by a Pole, as
meaning no more than it meant. "But these English are bulls the men and
the women are all like bulls--bulls!"

She at once sat down and wrote another letter--another in such an
ecstasy of eagerness to remove the evil impressions which she had made,
that she wrote it almost with the natural effusions of her heart:

DEAR FRIEND:--Your coldness kills me--kills me! But perhaps I have
deserved it. If I said there were legal demands I did deserve it.
No, there are none. Legal demands! Oh, no. What can your poor friend
demand legally? The lawyer--he knows nothing; he was a stranger. It
was my brother spoke to him. What should I do with a lawyer? Oh, my
friend, do not be angry with your poor servant. I write now not to
ask for money, but for a kind word--for one word of kindness and
love to your Sophie before she have gone forever--yes, forever. Oh,
Julie--oh, my angel, I would lie at your feet and kiss them if