I would like to have as many of her friends here as possible.
Houghton will seem more like home to her. As for you, Clara, it will
always be your home, so we must try and make it pleasant. Write the
letter for me, child, and invite the gentleman here."

It was this conversation that sent Lady Clara out of her grandmother's
room with that radiant face.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER.

"Take your choice, young lady, take your choice! Either consent to have
your name on the bills for Monday night, or leave my house, bag and
baggage, one and all of you! Either obey me or go! I wash my hands of
the whole affair."

Here Olympia rubbed one soft white hand over the other, and shook them
apart, as if she were already washing off the annoyance that proud girl
had given her.

Caroline was deathly pale. She had grown thin and languid with the
illness that still hung about her. Around her enlarged eyes lay faint,
purplish shadows, that deepened their sad expression; but, with all her
weakness, a look of settled resolution lay on her face.

"Be it so, then!" she said, with pathetic sadness. "If my own mother--"

"Mother? Hush that! I don't believe a word of it! Brown may talk, and
swear that he never lost sight of you, but he needn't tell me! My
daughter! why don't you glory in the stage, then? Why don't you go down
on your knees and thank me for that voice? Don't dare to call me mother
till you can learn how to obey me!"

"I cannot obey you in this. If you drive me out to perish in the street
I will not!"

"Then into the street you go! Let Brown try his hand at earning a living
for you. It is more his duty than mine."

Caroline turned a wild, wistful look on the woman as she said this; then
she moved a step toward her, and the tones of her voice, as they came
through her white lips, were mournful and stormy, like wind over snow.

"What do you mean, madam? What is it that you insinuate?"

"Only this," answered Olympia, with a malicious laugh. "As you are
resolved--as you never will be anything to me again, and are determined
to throw away all your advantages, I think the truth will bring down
your pride a little, and so mean to give it just for once. I really do
suppose that you are my daughter--else, where did you get the voice you
are giving to the wind? But, if you are, that man Brown is your father,
for he was my husband once."

Caroline stood looking at the woman, white and still, her large e