would rather part with your children than accompany
them?"

"Far rather," she replied. "I know you will allow them to visit me,
Lady Earle. I have known for many years that such a time must come,
and I am prepared for it."

"But, my dear Dora," said Lady Earle, warmly, "have you considered what
parting with your children implies--the solitude, the desolation?"

"I know it all," replied Dora. "It will be hard, but not so hard nor
so bitter as living under the same roof with their father."

Carefully and quietly Dora listened to Lady Earle's plans and
arrangements--how her children were to go to Earlescourt and take the
position belonging to them. Mrs. Vyvian was to go with them and remain
until Lord Earle returned. Until then they were not to be introduced
into society; it would take some time to accustom them to so great a
change. When Lord Earl returned he could pursue what course he would.

"He will be so proud of them!" said Lady Earle. "I have never seen a
girl so spirited and beautiful as Beatrice, nor one so fair and gentle
as Lillian. Oh, Dora, I should be happy if you were going with us."

Never once during the few days of busy preparation did Dora's proud
courage give way. The girls at first refused to leave her; they
exhausted themselves in conjectures as to her continued residence at
the Elms, and were forced to be satisfied with Lady Earle's off-hand
declaration that their mother could not endure any but a private life.

"Mamma has a title now," said Beatrice, wonderingly; "why will she not
assume it?"

"Your mother's tastes are simple and plain," replied Lady Earle. "Her
wishes must be treated with respect."

Dora did not give way until the two fair faces that had brightened her
house vanished. When they were gone, and a strange, hushed silence
fell upon the place, pride and courage gave way. In that hour the very
bitterness of death seemed to be upon her.

Chapter XX

It was a proud moment for Lady Earle when she led the two young girls
through the long line of servants assembled to receive them. They were
both silent from sheer wonder. They had left Florence at so early an
age that they had not the faintest remembrance of the pretty villa on
the banks of the Arno. All their ideas were centered in the Elms--they
had never seen any other home.

Lady Earle watched the different effect produced upon them by the
glimpse of Earlescourt. Lillian grew pale; she trembled, and her
w