fruit of her labor was in her hands, but it was
vapid, tasteless, unsatisfying. What _her_ soul clamored for, was the
opera, the contact of kindred spirits, the rush and whirl, the smoke
and champagne, and giddiness of the city; the card-won gold, and
painted folly that made the be-all and end-all of life to such as she.

She did not lose sight of the usefulness she trusted to find in Celine
Leroque, however. During these days of _ennui_ and quietude, the two
came to a very good understanding; not all at once, and not at all
definite. Only, by degrees, Cora became convinced that Celine Leroque
cherished a very laudable contempt for her would-be-girlish mistress,
and that she was becoming rather weary in her service. Once, indeed,
the girl had said, as if unable to restrain herself, and while
dressing Mrs. Cora's yellow hair--a task which she professed to
delight in:

"Ah! madame, if only it was _you_ who were my mistress! It is a
pleasure to dress a beautiful mistress, but to be constantly at war
against nature, to make an old one young--faugh! it is labor."

And Cora had been much amused and had held out a suggestion that, in
case of any rupture between mistress and maid, the latter should apply
to her.

But if existence was a pain to Celine, and a weariness to Cora, it was
anguish unutterable to Edward Percy. He would have been glad to put a
long span of miles between his inamorata and himself had he not felt
that, with Cora in the same house as his fair one, it were more
discreet to be on the ground, and watch over his prey pretty closely.
But to this man, who made love to every pretty woman as a child eats
_bon bons_, the task of wooing where his eye was not pleased, his ear
was not soothed, and his vanity not in the least flattered, was
intensely wearisome.

CHAPTER XXVI.

NOT A BAD DAY'S WORK.

The first thing that Doctor Vaughan did on returning from Bellair, was
to seek an interview with Henry, the dark servant of Lucian Davlin.

It was a mixed motive that had first prompted Henry to espouse the
cause of a helpless, friendless girl; a motive composed of one part
inward wrath, long nourished, against the haughty and over-exacting
Lucian, and one part pity for the young girl who, as his experienced
eyes told him, was not such as were the women who had usually been
entertained by his master.

He had expected to assist her to escape from the place, to enjoy his
master's chagrin, and to see the m