low at her heart which this trifling little lord had
delivered without flinching. This was to be the end of her schemes, that
she was to be separated summarily and remorselessly from the child she
had brought up. The Contessa knew, being of the same order of being,
that, already somewhat disappointed to find the ardour of the chase over
and all the excitement of bringing down the quarry, Bice, who cared
little more about Montjoie than about any other likely person, would be
as ready as not to throw him off if she were to communicate rashly the
conditions on which he insisted. But, though she was of the same order
of being, the Contessa was older and wiser. She had gone through a great
many experiences. She knew that rich young English peers, marquises,
uncontrolled by any parent or guardians, were fruit that did not grow on
every bush, and that if this tide of fortune was not taken at its flood
there was no telling when another might come. Now, though Bice was so
dear, the Contessa had still a great many resources of her own, and was
neither old nor tired of life. She would make herself a new career even
without Bice, in which there might still be much interest--especially
with the aid of a settled income. The careless speech about the sous was
not without an eloquence of its own. Sous make everything that is
disagreeable less disagreeable, and everything that is pleasant more
pleasant. And she had got her triumph. She had secured for her Bice a
splendid lot. She had accomplished what she had vowed to do, which many
scoffers had thought she would never do. She was about to be presented
at the English Court, and all her soils and spots from the world cleared
from her, and herself rehabilitated wherever she might go. Was it
reasonable then to break her heart over Montjoie and his miserable
conditions? He could not separate Bice's love from her, though he might
separate their lives--and that about the sous was generous. She was not
one who would have sold her affections or given up anybody whom she
loved for money. But still there were many things to be said, and for
Bice's advantage what would she not do? The Contessa ended by a
resolution which many a better woman would not have had the courage to
make. She buried Montjoie's condition in her own heart--never to hint
its existence--to ignore it as if it had not been. Many a more
satisfactory person would have flinched at this. Most of us would at
least have allowed the obje