e
got up at once, having glanced at the name upon the card, and seemed to
know all about him. She shook hands with him cordially, almost squeezing
his hand, and bade him sit down near her on the sofa. "She was so glad
to see him, for her dear Julie's sake. Julie, as of course he knew, was
at 'Ongere' Park. Oh! so happy"--which, by the by, he did not know--"and
would be up in the course of next week. So many things to do, of course,
Mr. Clavering. The house, and the servants, and the park, and the
beautiful things of a large country establishment! But it was
delightful, and Julie was quite happy!"

No people could be more unlike to each other than this brother and his
sister. No human being could have taken Madame Gordeloup for an
English-woman, though it might be difficult to judge, either from her
language or her appearance, of the nationality to which she belonged.
She spoke English with great fluency, but every word uttered declared
her not to be English. And when she was most fluent she was most
incorrect in her language. She was small, eager, and quick, and appeared
quite as anxious to talk as her brother had been to hold his tongue. She
lived in a small room on the first floor of a small house; and it seemed
to Harry that she lived alone. But he had not been long there before she
had told him all her history, and explained to him most of her
circumstances. That she kept back something is probable; but how many
are there who can afford to tell everything?

Her husband was still living, but he was at St. Petersburg. He was a
Frenchman by family, but had been born in Russia. He had been attached
to the Russian embassy in London, but was now attached to diplomacy in
general in Russia. She did not join him, because she loved England--oh,
so much! And, perhaps, her husband might come back again some day. She
did not say that she had not seen him for ten years, and was not quite
sure whether he was dead or alive; but had she made a clean breast in
all things, she might have done so. She said that she was a good deal
still at the Russian embassy; but she did not say that she herself was a
paid spy. Nor do I say so now, positively; but that was the character
given to her by many who knew her. She called her brother Edouard, as
though Harry had known the count all his life; and always spoke of Lady
Ongar as Julie. She uttered one or two little hints which seemed to
imply that she knew everything that had passed between "Ju