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"How poor a thing is pride!"

"The beauty you o'erprise so, time or sickness

Can change to loath'd deformity; your wealth

The prey of thieves."

—Massinger.

The most open-handed hospitality having ever been the rule at Roselands, it was no difficult matter for Count De Lisle to get himself invited to stay to tea and spend the evening; in fact it was long past midnight when he at last took leave of Juliet and went away.

The thud of his horse's hoofs as he galloped down the avenue, brought a pale, haggard face to an upper window; but the dim light of the stars revealed nothing save the merest outline of the steed and his rider, and that for but an instant.

The watcher turned away, sighing to herself "I cannot see him, but it must be he," hastily crossed the room and stole noiselessly into the hall beyond.

The hours spent by him in dalliance with Juliet (they had had the drawing-room to themselves since ten o'clock) had been to her—his much tried sister—a time of bitter anguish and fierce mental conflict.

How could she permit this wickedness? yet how prevent it, when the only way to do so was by exposing him—her brother?

It seemed a terribly hard thing to do, for she loved him, and his disgrace was hers, and that of the whole family.

She was sorely tempted to leave Juliet to the fate she seemed to be drawing upon herself by her egregious folly,—that of becoming the wife of a spendthrift, and one whose vices had led him to commit a crime against the laws of the land, the penalty of which was a term of years in the penitentiary.

It would be a sad fate, but perhaps not undeserved by a girl who would rush into it in opposition to the known wishes and commands of her parents.

Harry had unguardedly admitted to his sister that he had no hope of winning the consent of either Mr. or Mrs. Marsden; that they were, in fact, so violently opposed to his suit, that he dared not visit their daughter in her own home; but he had exultingly added that he was perfectly certain of his ability to persuade Juliet to elope with him, and meant to do so sooner or later.

Well, should he accomplish that, and escape to Europe with his prize, his family probably would not suffer any ill consequence. No one here knew his real name, or had the slightest suspicion that Miss Worth was in any way connected with him; but she felt morally certain that in case Mrs. Dinsmore discovered the truth, her situation at Roselands was lost; she would be sent away without a recommendation; then it might be months before she could get employment elsewhere, and that meant beggary to herself, and those nearest and dearest to her.

Surely no motive of self-interest urged her to stretch out a hand to save Juliet Marsden from falling into the snare spread for her unwary feet. Yet pity for the girl, a strong sense of justice, and more than all, a desire to do the will of her new found Friend, prevailed over all selfish considerations, and she fully determined to give the warning, though in a way to risk as little as possible, and for the last half hour she had watched and waited for the opportunity.

Juliet came up the stairs with a light, quick step, and as she passed underneath the lamp swung from the ceiling, its rays, falling full upon her, gave to Miss Worth a moment's distinct view of her face.

It wore an expression of exultant joy; the cheeks were flushed, the eyes glittering, the lips smiling.

"He has offered himself and been accepted," was Miss Worth's conclusion; "there is no time to be lost;" and stepping forward, she stood directly in Juliet's path, confronting her with calm, pale face, and determined air.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Juliet, recoiling, and regarding the governess with mingled anger and hauteur, "Will you be good enough to step aside, and allow me to pass on to my own apartments?"

"Excuse me, Miss Marsden, but I must have a word with you," returned the person addressed, in low, distinct tones, and not moving a hair's breadth from the position she had taken.

"Indeed!" was the scornful rejoinder, "and pray, who may you be that take such airs upon yourself? My aunt's governess, if I am not mistaken, a person with whom I can have nothing in common. Keep your communications for those in your own station in life. Will you step out of my way?"

"Not yet; not till I have discharged my duty to you, Miss Marsden, I must speak a word of warning; I cannot see you rushing headlong to destruction without crying out to you to beware; and I have no motive for doing so but pity for you."

Juliet's astonishment was unbounded. What could the creature mean? What indeed, but to insult her.

"Pity for me!" she cried with withering scorn, "you, a poor dependent governess, pity me! me the daughter of a wealthy Kentucky planter and an heiress in my own right. Keep your compassion for such as want it, I will none of it!" and she would have pushed past Miss Worth, but the latter laid a hand on her arm, not roughly but with determination.

"It is of Count De Lisle I would speak to you," she said almost under her breath. "No, I call that back; for he has no right to either the name or the title."

"How dare you!" cried Juliet with flashing eyes, shaking off the detaining hand and drawing herself up to her full height. "What do you know of him?"

"Far more than you do," returned the other calmly. "I have known him all his life and I tell you he is not what you suppose—not what he gives himself out to be;—but a man without fortune or title—an American by birth and education, and seeking you merely for your wealth."

"I don't believe a word of it! It's all a pack of lies that you have invented because you are envious of me. Stand out of my way and don't presume to speak to me again on this subject, nor any other."

So saying the angry girl swept proudly past the humble governess, whom she regarded as a menial and an impertinent meddler in her affairs, and gaining her apartments, shut and locked herself in with a noise that roused her sleeping sister.

"The impudent creature!" she muttered.

"Who?" queried Reba, starting up in bed. "Have you actually discovered that pa is right and your count a mercenary adventurer?"

"Nonsense! no; I've learned no such thing!"

"What then? who is the impudent creature you are anathematizing?"

"Aunt Belle's governess. She actually waylaid me in the hall and forced me to stand still and listen while she uttered a warning against him, pretending that he was an old acquaintance of hers. I shall complain to aunt and have her turned adrift for her impertinence."

"Better not," laughed Reba; "'twould only tend to rouse suspicion against him. It must be very late; I advise you to wake up your maid and get ready for bed."

The encounter had left Miss Worth in quite as unamiable a frame of mind as that of her antagonist; for the insulting arrogance of Juliet's manner had sorely wounded her pride; it was hard to take such treatment from one who was her superior in nothing but the accident of wealth, and in fact decidedly inferior in the higher gifts of intellect and education.

"I wash my hands of the whole affair; I will leave her to her fate," Miss Worth said to herself as she turned in at her own door again and secured it after her.

With that she endeavored to dismiss the whole matter from her mind; she was exceedingly weary and must have rest, and presently everything was forgotten in a heavy, dreamless sleep.

But with the first moment of wakefulness the burden again pressed heavily. She could not be indifferent to her brother's wrong-doing nor to the danger of his discovery, arrest and punishment for his former crime.

But the holidays were over and she must return to her duties in the schoolroom; perhaps it was well for her that it was so, since it compelled her to give her thoughts to other subjects.

Still taking her meals in the nursery, she saw nothing of the lady guests till Mildred came in the afternoon with a recitation.

Mildred was quietly and steadily pursuing the course of study which she had laid out for herself; mingling to some extent in the employments and pastimes of those about her, but contriving to retire betimes almost every night, and by early rising to secure the morning hours for the improvement of her mind; a season safe from interruption by her aunt and her nieces, as it was always spent by them in bed.

In fact there was so utter an absence of congeniality between Mildred and the other two girls that they were generally better content to remain apart. And as Mrs. Dinsmore preferred the companionship of her own nieces, because of both the ties of kindred and harmony of taste and feeling, Mildred was left to follow her own inclinations with little hindrance from them.

But though continuing her studies, Mildred, because she felt that the governess was entitled to the full benefit of the holiday rest, had not, during the past two weeks, gone to her for assistance or with recitations.

She was glad that she might now do so with propriety; for since the episode of the previous morning she had not been able to forget Miss Worth's pale, distressed countenance; and was really very anxious about her.

She felt quite sure there was some deeper trouble than mere physical pain, and had a longing desire to give sympathy and relief; a desire untainted by a touch of prying curiosity, and that strengthened so greatly during this afternoon's interview that she was fain to give expression to it; doing so with extreme delicacy and tact.

It was when the business part of their interview was over, and Mildred had closed her books and risen to leave the room.

For a moment Miss Worth was silent, her features working with emotion.

"You are very kind," she said at last. "I wish I might confide fully in you, but you are so young: too young and free from care to understand my—"

She broke off abruptly and with a groan, dropped her face upon her folded arms, on the table at which they had been sitting.

"Perhaps so," Mildred said in gently compassionate tones; "I could almost wish for your sake that I were older."

Miss Worth lifted her head, and with almost startling suddenness, and a feverish eagerness in her tones, asked, "Miss Mildred, where is Miss Juliet Marsden to-day?"

"She has passed the greater part of it in bed, I believe," Mildred answered in utter surprise.

"Has—has her lover been here since—since he left her last night?"

"The Count? No."

"Can you tell me if she is to go out to-night? and where? and who is to be her escort? Ah, I see you are wondering at my curiosity and it is only natural that you should; but believe me, it is not the idle inquisitiveness it must seem to you," she went on rapidly and in anguished accents; "for I have a reason; there is much at stake—I—I have tried to be indifferent—to say to myself that it is nothing to me if—if that vain, silly girl should meet with the fate her folly deserves; but I cannot; I must try to save her—and him. Oh, if I could but save him."

And again she hid her face, while sobs shook her from head to foot.

"Him!" Mildred cried in increased amazement, "what is he to you? No, no, I do not ask that. I have no wish to pry into your secrets."

Miss Worth lifted her head, and wiped away her tears.

"Thank you, for withdrawing that question," she said in a broken voice, "I cannot answer it; but—but this much I will tell you in the strictest confidence. I have known him in other days, and he is not what he professes to be; and it would be ruin, ruin to her!"

"Is that so?" Mildred said, with a startled look. "Then surely you will warn her?"

"I have done so, Miss Keith, though it was like drawing my eye teeth to do it; but my sacrifice was unappreciated, my motives were misconstrued; I was treated with scorn and contempt, and have said to myself, 'I have a just right to be angry and indignant, and shall leave her to her fate.'"

"But you will tell my uncle? He might be able to prevent the mischief by setting a watch upon them, and forbidding the man the house."

"No, no, I cannot betray him!" cried Miss Worth in a startled, terrified tone, "and you—you will respect my confidence, Miss Keith?"

"Certainly; but—surely you will not suffer Juliet to be sacrificed?"

"I have warned her," returned the governess, coldly, "and since she refuses to heed, on her own head be the consequences."

It was Mildred's turn to be troubled and perplexed. She stood for a moment in anxious thought.

"Will you not make one more effort?" she said at length. "Would you not save him from this wrong doing? May not the consequences be dreadful to him, too? may not her father take a terrible revenge, as men sometimes do on the deceivers and betrayers of their daughters?"

Miss Worth started, and her wan cheek turned a shade paler.

"I had not thought of that!" she said, drawing a long breath. "Oh, what shall I do?"

They consulted together, but with no more definite result than a mutual agreement to keep a strict watch upon the movements of Juliet and her pseudo nobleman.

Mildred was again about to withdraw, when Miss Worth stopped her.

"Pardon me, Miss Keith," she said, "but you have not answered my questions."

"They all go to the theatre to-night, and, as I happen to know, Mr. Landreth is to escort Miss Juliet."

"Not the count? but she will meet him there; I am sure of it. You do not go, Miss Mildred?"

"To the theatre! oh, no!"

"Then I must go myself, and watch them."

"Surely that is not necessary," reasoned Mildred, "Uncle, Aunt, Reba—all close at hand."

"Ah! perhaps not," assented the governess, "Possibly it were wiser to leave the task to them."

Mildred went to her room to ponder and pray over the matter, for she was sorely perplexed, and not a little anxious for Juliet.

She asked help and direction for herself and Miss Worth; and that the latter might be led to do her duty, however difficult and painful.

Greatly she wondered what was the tie between her and this spurious count, till it flashed upon her that his familiar look was a strong likeness to the governess. Then she knew it was that of relationship.

Her own duty in the affair formed a serious question in her mind.

Much she wished Miss Worth's communication had not been made in confidence, and that she were free to carry it to her uncle, who would, in that case, be sure to interfere effectually to save Juliet from falling a prey to the schemes of this false, designing man.

She could not break her word to the governess, but at length, recalling the fact that she had heard Reba say her father was suspicious of Count De Lisle, she determined to repeat that to her uncle, and thus put him on his guard against the villain, and his probable plot to inveigle Juliet into a clandestine marriage.

It was not a pleasant thing for Mildred to do; she would much rather not interfere, but Juliet must be saved at all risks, and neither she nor Reba had seemed to make a secret of their father's sentiments.

She went at once in search of Mr. Dinsmore, but learned that he was closeted with a gentleman on business. Then a summons came for her to drive out with her aunt; tea was ready when they returned; after that she was occupied with company in the drawing-room, then in assisting Juliet and Reba to make their toilet for the evening.

Thus the time slipped by, and when the carriage had driven away with its load of theatre goers, she retired to her own room, without having had the least opportunity for a word in private with Mr. Dinsmore.