by her
side, and asked this question over and over again:

"Is she dead? Oh, tell me, is she dead?"

Hepworth Closs bent down, and touched his lips to the cold forehead of
his sister; then he lifted Clara from the floor, and half led her, half
carried her, from the room.

Then Lord Hope stood up and turned, with a shudder, to the old woman,
who had been to him and his a fearful Nemesis.

"Hannah Yates," he said, "you have suffered much, concealed much, and,
from your own confession, are not without sin."

"True, true," murmured the old woman. "I have sinned grievously."

"Therefore, you should have shown more mercy to this unhappy woman. But
the suffering and the wrong was done to shield this girl from what you
thought an evil influence, and save from reproach two noble houses, to
which she belongs--for her face tells me that your story is true. Spare
the memory of this most unfortunate, if sinful woman. Spare the high
name and noble pride of the old countess, who beseeches you--her very
face seems to change as I speak--for silence and forgetfulness. That
which you have done in love, continue in mercy. Let this miserable
scene, with all that led to it, rest in sacred silence among us. The
persons who have suffered most are now before a tribunal where no
evidence of yours is wanted. Look on your old mistress," he continued,
pointing toward the death couch, "and let her sweet face plead with you.
Had she lived--"

"Had she lived," said the old woman, "I should not have spoken. Death
itself would not have wrung from me one word of what her daughter
suffered. But the woman who murdered her came suddenly before me. It was
a power beyond my poor will that made me speak; but hereafter no word of
this shall ever pass my lips. No evil story of suffering or bloodshed
shall ever go forth about a lady of Houghton while I can prevent it."

Lord Hope bent his head, and made an effort to thank her, but he could
not speak.

"Leave me now," said the old woman. "Let no servants come near these
apartments, save two that can be trusted here with me. Some one send
Margaret Casey and Eliza, her sister, here. Now leave me, Lord Hope, and
you, Lady Carset. You can trust the old woman alone with these two."

Before noon, that day, it was known in all the country around that the
old countess, Lady Carset, lay in funeral state in the royal
guest-chamber at Houghton Castle, for the long red flag was floating
half-way down its staff, a