ed slowly; all her gestures had the gentle
deliberation of things done ceremonially.

"It is not much longer to wait, is it?" she said. "After twenty
years, one should be patient. But to think! To-night, for the first
time I hear of Jeanne from one who saw her at the end. Not a lawyer
who has sought out the tale and rearranged it, but one who knew. You
see, Elsie?"

Elsie put a hand on her arm, and her little thrill of excitement died
out at once.

"Yes," said the girl; "I see, but you must be tranquil."

"I will be tranquil," promised the Comtesse. "I will have
consideration for my heart. It is only the waiting which tries me."

"And that is nearly at an end." Elsie released her arm, and the
Comtesse turned again to the fire. The tick of the clock renewed its
tiny insistence; the great room again enveloped them in the austerity
of its silence. The girl returned to the silk strings in her lap. She
knew the occasion of the Comtesse's sudden emotion; it was a familiar
tale, and not the loss familiar for being told in whispers. She had
heard it first when she came from her English home to be the
Comtesse's companion. It had been told to her officially, as it were,
to guide her in her dealings with the Comtesse. A florid French
uncle, with a manner of confidential discretion that made her blush,
had been the mouthpiece of the family, and from him she had learned
how Jeanne, the Comtesse's half-sister, had run away with a rogue, a
man who got his deserts, an officer in a regiment stationed in
Algeria.

"Eventually he committed suicide, but before that there were
passages," the French uncle had said. The dreadful word "passages"
seemed to contain the story, and he gave it an accent of unspeakable
significance. "The Comtesse has suffered," he told her further. "It
was a sad affair, and she had much tenderness for Jeanne." And that,
at first, seemed to be the whole of it, though once or twice the
uncle checked himself on the brink of details. But on this evening
the tale was to be told afresh. There had arrived from Africa one
Colonel Saval, who had served with the sorry hero of poor Jeanne's
romance; he had known him and dealt with him; and he was appointed to
come to the Comtesse in the quality of eye-witness.

He was punctual, at all events; the little clock was yet striking
when the gaunt footman opened the door and spoke his name. The
Comtesse looked up, and Elsie Gray rose to receive him; he advanced
and made hi