ly. "I know a beautiful girl who watched devotedly at
your brother's bedside, day and night, and probably saved his life at a
time when he was deserted by his sisters and his mother."

"We often find that sort of kindness in those low creatures," she
answered, unaware of the tender spot she was touching, and ignoring
my reference to George's sisters and his mother.

Naturally Mary was kind of heart, but her mother was a hard, painted
old Jezebel, whose teachings would have led her daughter away from every
gentle truth and up to all that was hard, cruel, and selfish in life. A
woman in the higher walks of life is liable to become enamelled before
her twentieth year.

While I did not blame Mary for what she had said relating to Bettina,
still I was angry and longed to do battle with any one who could fight.

After we had been together perhaps ten minutes, some one claimed her for
a dance, and she left me, saying hurriedly in my ear:--

"I'll see you soon again. I want to ask you further about George." She
had not a question to ask about me.

She was not to see me again, for I asked permission of the queen to
withdraw, and immediately left the ball.

While I was crossing the park on my way back to Whitehall, the wind
moaned and groaned--it did not breathe. The stars did not twinkle--they
glared. The nightingales did not sing--they screamed. And the roses were
odorless. Perhaps all this change to gloom was within me rather than
without, but it existed just the same, and I went home and to bed, hating
all the world save Bettina, whom I vowed for the hundredth time never to
see again.

The next day at noon De Grammont came to my closet, where I had waited
for him all morning.

"Welcome to you, dear count!" I cried, leading him by the hand to a
chair.

"Perhaps you will not so warmly welcome me," he returned, "when you learn
my errand."

"I already know your errand, Count Grammont, and it makes you doubly
welcome," I answered, drawing a chair for myself and sitting down in
front of him.

"Ah, that is of good," he returned, rubbing his hands. "You already know
the purpose of my visit?"

"Yes, I do, my dear count, but any purpose would delight me which brings
the pleasure of your company."

"Ah, it is said like a civilized man," he returned, complimenting
me by speaking English, though I shall not attempt to reproduce his
pronunciation. "How far better it is to say: 'Monsieur, permit to me,'
before one runs a