rtainly be the lioness and the Misses Brudenell the belles of the
season.

On the evening of the fourth day, while Berenice lay exhausted upon the
sofa of her bedroom, her maid entered the chamber saying:

"Please, my lady, you remember the young woman that was here on Friday
evening?"

"Yes!" Berenice was up on her elbow in an instant, looking eagerly into
the girl's face.

"Your ladyship ordered me to make inquiries about her, but I could get
no news except from the old man who took her home out of the snowstorm
and who came back and said she was ill."

"I know! I know! You told me that before. But you have heard something
else. What is it?"

"My lady, the old woman Dinah, who went to nurse her, never came back
till to-day; that is the reason I couldn't hear any more news until
to-night."

"Well, well, well? Your news! Out with it, girl!"

"My lady, she is dead and buried!"

"Who?"

"The young woman, my lady. She died on Saturday. She was buried to-day."

Berenice sank back on the sofa and covered her face with her hands. So!
her dangerous rival was gone; the poor unhappy girl was dead! Berenice
was jealous, but pitiful. And she experienced in the same moment a sense
of infinite relief and a feeling of the deepest compassion.

Neither mistress nor maid spoke for several minutes. The latter was the
first to break silence.

"My lady!"

"Well, Phoebe!"

"There was something else I had to tell you."

"What was it?"

"The young woman left a child, my lady."

"A child!" Again Berenice was up on her elbow, her eyes fixed upon the
speaker and blazing with eager interest.

"It is a boy, my lady; but they don't think it will live!"

"A boy! He shall live! He is mine--my son! I will have him. Since his
mother is dead, it is I who have the best right to him!" exclaimed the
countess vehemently, rising to her feet.

The maid recoiled--she thought her mistress had suddenly gone mad.

"Phoebe," said the countess eagerly, "what is the hour?"

"Nearly eleven, my lady."

"Has it cleared off?"

"No, my lady; it has come on to rain hard; it is pouring."

The countess went to the windows of her room, but they were too closely
shut and warmly curtained to give her any information as to the state of
the weather without. Then she hurried impatiently into the passage where
the one end window remained with its shutters still unclosed, and she
looked out. The rain was lashing the glass with fury. She turned awa