es fell on Lady
Clara, whom she recognized as the heiress of all that gentle lady had
left. But Lady Clara saw nothing of this. The poor girl was weeping out
her passionate sorrow in the arms of her friend, who bent over her with
such tender sympathy that her face was almost concealed.

As Lord Hope advanced toward the death-couch, old Mrs. Yates arose and
stood before him. When he had last seen her she was an old woman, but in
the prime of her strength; now her shoulders stooped, her hair was
entirely white, and she faltered in her walk. He reached out his hand to
her. She did not appear to observe it, but said to him, in a quiet
voice:

"My lord, I am glad to find you here. God has so ordered it that I was
too late for her. She could not hear what I had to say, but you must
listen in her stead."

"At the proper time, Hannah; but we must not talk of worldly things in
this presence."

Lord Hope bent his head reverently toward the pale form upon the couch,
and the old woman also bowed down her face meekly, as she had learned to
bow her head in prison; but she answered, with gentle firmness:

"No--that which I have to say must be told now, and in her dead
presence. Since God has forbidden me to bring doubt and sorrow on her
last moments I thank Him for it, but you must listen."

"Not now--not now," answered Hope, quickly. He was disturbed by the
sight of this old woman, whom he had believed to be buried for life in
an American prison; but he had learned the great art of self-control,
and gave no indication of the shock her presence in that room gave him.

His first impulse was to get Lady Hope out of the apartment. She had
never seen Mrs. Yates, but he was fearful that some mention of her name
might renew the nervous agitation from which she had but just recovered.

"Come with me, Rachael," he said, in a low voice. "I will take you to
our room, for this is a painful sight. Then I will return, alone, to
hear what this person has to say."

Lady Hope was willing to leave a scene which filled her with gloom.

Whispering to Clara that she would come back and watch with her when the
old woman was gone, she twisted a corner of the black lace shawl, which
covered her head, around her throat, and went away, glad to escape that
strange old woman, against whom she had taken one of those sudden
antipathies which were common to her.

"Dear me! I look almost as deathly as she does, with all these shadows
on my face," said