continued to like her, after
the disgrace she wrought."

"Somebody else wrought more of the disgrace than she did; and, had I
been a man, I would have shot him dead," flashed the viscount.

"You don't know anything about it."

"Don't I!" returned he, not over dutifully. But Lady Mount Severn had
not brought him up to be dutiful.

"May I read the letter, mamma?" he demanded, after a pause.

"If you can read it," she replied, tossing it to him. "It is written in
the strangest style; syllables divided, and the words running one into
the other. She wrote it herself when she was dying."

Lord Vane took the letter to a window, and stayed looking over it
for some time; the countess ate an egg and a plate of ham meanwhile.
Presently he came back with it folded, and laid in on the table.

"You will forward it to papa to-day," he observed.

"I shall forward it to him. But there's no hurry; and I don't exactly
know where your papa may be. I shall send the notice of her death to the
papers; and I am glad to do it; it is a blight removed from the family."

"Mamma, I do think you are the unkindest woman that ever breathed!"

"I'll give you something to call me unkind for, if you don't mind,"
retorted the countess, her color rising. "Dock you of your holiday, and
pack you back to school to-day."

A few mornings after this Mr. Carlyle left East Lynne and proceeded to
his office as usual. Scarcely was he seated, when Mr. Dill entered,
and Mr. Carlyle looked at him inquiringly, for it was not Mr. Carlyle's
custom to be intruded upon by any person until he had opened his
letters; then he would ring for Mr. Dill. The letters and the _Times_
newspaper lay on the table before him. The old gentleman came up in a
covert, timid sort of way, which made Mr. Carlyle look all the more.

"I beg pardon, sir; will you let me ask if you have heard any particular
news?"

"Yes, I have heard it," replied Mr. Carlyle.

"Then, sir, I beg your pardon a thousand times over. It occurred to me
that you probably had not, Mr. Archibald; and I thought I would have
said a word to prepare you, before you came upon it suddenly in the
paper."

"To prepare me!" echoed Mr. Carlyle, as old Dill was turning away.
"Why, what has come to you, Dill? Are you afraid my nerves are growing
delicate, or that I shall faint over the loss of a hundred pounds? At
the very most, we shall not suffer above that extent."

Old Dill turned back again.

"If I don't bel