as entirely respectful; but it said nothing of her plans, nor
told where she was going.

Now, Olympia thought that she had provided against the possibility of a
choice between her cruel commands, by depriving both Caroline and her
father of all means by which they could leave her. She had gone out,
certain of the girl's forced submission, and came back to find her gone.
She crushed the note in her hand, flung it down and stamped upon it
furiously; for it seemed as if half a million of gold had melted down
into the bit of paper, which she could only trample under her feet in
impotent wrath.

"The viper! the ingrate! the thing made of iron! Oh, if it were her! if
it were her! I would trample her through the floor! Where did she get
the money? He had nothing--she had nothing. I thought I had chained them
to me by their poverty; then I came home, so exhilarated by this great
offer from the manager--and she is gone! So beautiful! and such a voice!
Gone! gone! Oh, what a loss!"

Here Olympia, who had never known what self-control was, flung herself
on a low, silken couch, heaped with cushions, like a divan, and began to
pound them with her little fists, and spurn them with the soiled white
satin slippers, in which she had been to rehearsal. This burst of
hysterical fury would have brought down the house had she plunged into
such naturalness on the stage. But she started up, and after snatching a
mosaic card-receiver from her footman, and dashing it against a marble
statuette of Venus coming from the bath, thus demolishing what little
drapery the poor thing was trying to make the most of, came partially to
herself and demanded what the fellow wanted.

The footman, shivering under his blue and silver, pointed to a card
which lay on the carpet.

"Why don't you pick it up?" cried Olympia, stamping her satin slipper
into a cluster of roses, that seemed to disappear from the carpet.

The man took up the card and handed it to her, with a reverence so
humble that she longed to trample him down with the mock roses, and get
him out of her sight; but, as he towered above her a foot or two, the
process seemed difficult, so she ordered him out of the room, and looked
at the card.

"Lord Hilton! Dear me!"

Olympia made a dash through the silken curtains, ran into the hall, just
as Lord Hilton was leaving the door-step, and called him back.

He followed her into the boudoir, telling her the reason of his visit as
he went.

This