for herself, and that
she would make herself contented, if not happy, with the price which had
been paid to her. And there were other times, in which her spirits sank
low within her, and she told herself that no contentment was longer
possible to her. She looked at herself in the glass, and found herself
to be old and haggard. Harry, she said, was the last man in the world to
sell himself for wealth, when there was no love remaining. Harry would
never do as she had done with herself! Not for all the wealth that woman
ever inherited--so she told herself--would he link himself to one who
had made herself vile and tainted among women! In this, I think, she did
him no more than justice, though it maybe that in some other matters she
rated his character too highly. Of Florence Burton she had as yet heard
nothing, though had she heard of her, it may well be that she would not
on that account have desisted. Such being her thoughts and her hopes,
she had written to Harry, begging him to see this man who had followed
her--she knew not why--from Italy; and had told the sister simply that
she could not do as she was asked, because she was away from London,
alone in a country house.

And quite alone she was sitting one morning, counting up her misery,
feeling that the apples were, in truth, ashes, when a servant came to
her, telling her that there was a gentleman in the hall desirous of
seeing her. The man had the visitor's card in his hand, but before she
could read the name, the blood had mounted into her face as she told
herself that it was Harry Clavering. There was joy for a moment at her
heart; but she must not show it--not as yet. She had been but four
months a widow, and he should not have come to her in the country. She
must see him and in some way make him understand this--but she would be
very gentle with him. Then her eye fell upon the card, and she saw, with
grievous disappointment, that it bore the name of Count Pateroff. No;
she was not going to be caught in that way. Let the result be what it
might, she would not let Sophie Gordeloup, or Sophie's brother, get the
better of her by such a ruse as that! "Tell the gentleman, with my
compliments," she said, as she handed back the card, "that I regret it
greatly, but I can see no one now." Then the servant went away, and she
sat wondering whether the count would be able to make his way into her
presence. She felt rather than knew that she had some reason to fear
him. All