The severe mental suffering that he endured during the half hour that was occupied in walking from Brown's hotel to the office of Mr. Emerson, may easily be conceived. On reaching that gentleman's place of business, Maurice learned that he was not within, but would probably return immediately. The young viscount was painfully conscious that the clerks answered his inquiries with a pointedly cold brevity. He saw them glance at each other, and one of them shrugged his shoulders, and gave a low whistle as Maurice seated himself to wait. The blood mounted to his face at this indignity, and rage took the place of mortification; but he could only nerve himself to endure with assumed composure the scorn he so little deserved. It was half an hour before Mr. Emerson entered.

"The business which brings me here is so important that I took the liberty of waiting," said Maurice, rising.

Mr. Emerson answered, stiffly,—

"Have the goodness to walk into my private apartment."

Maurice obeyed.

Mr. Emerson was one of those reserved men who never choose the initiative in any transaction. He motioned Maurice to take a chair, then seated himself in the attitude of a listener.

"I am placed in a position which renders explanation very difficult," commenced the viscount.

Mr. Emerson assented by a half bow, but did not in any manner assist the speaker.

"Nothing could have astonished me more than the letter I have just received from you," continued Maurice.

Mr. Emerson lifted his eyebrows a little incredulously, and crossed his legs, but still played the auditor only.

Maurice, galled by his supercilious manner, said, in a tone of irritation of which he repented a moment afterward, "I presume that you had no doubt that my conduct justified your letter?"

"None," replied Mr. Emerson, with quiet severity.

"You were wrong, you did me the greatest injustice," cried Maurice, "and yet unless you can credit this fact upon my bare assertion I have no means of convincing you."

Mr. Emerson smiled sarcastically.

"You do not seem to me desirous, sir, of learning in what manner this mistake has arisen, even if I could make it clear."

"You are right," returned Mr. Emerson; "I do not see that it is a matter which further concerns me."

"But it concerns my honor"—began Maurice, angrily.

He was checked by another contemptuous smile from Mr. Emerson.

"I see, sir, you are not disposed to allow me to defend myself, or to encourage me to enter into any explanation."

"I have said that the matter no longer concerns me."

"Then I will not occupy your time with a vain attempt to change your opinion of me, but will proceed at once to the request I have to make."

"I shall feel obliged by your doing so," said Mr. Emerson, in a manner which intimated that he wished to close the interview.

"All I ask," proceeded Maurice, "is that you will take no further steps until"—

"I have no further steps to take," interrupted Mr. Emerson, frigidly.

Maurice looked puzzled, but, imagining that Mr. Emerson did not choose to understand him, he added, "I mean, in plain language, that you will not make the affair public, and that you will not institute legal proceedings until"—

"The repayment of the money loaned, obviated the necessity for legal proceedings," returned Mr. Emerson, in the same cold manner.

"The repayment?" exclaimed Maurice, in amazement; "what repayment? what money?"

"The ten thousand dollars loaned to you by me, somewhat rashly, and without examining a security which proved to be valueless."

In spite of Maurice's astonishment at this unexpected communication, the arrow of this reproach did not miss its mark, but he only said,—

"Am I to understand that these ten thousand dollars have been repaid?"

"They were repaid about an hour ago."

"Repaid? Who could have repaid them? How is it possible?" Maurice uttered these words to himself rather then addressed them to Mr. Emerson.

But the latter answered briefly, "The Countess de Gramont."

"My grandmother? Impossible! It was not in her power; she knew nothing of the transaction."

Mr. Emerson continued, without noticing this assertion,—

"A quarter of an hour ago I despatched a clerk to Brown's hotel, with a receipt for the money."

"My grandmother!" repeated Maurice, musingly, and unable to credit the possibility of her interference.

"You will find the information I have given you correct," said Mr. Emerson, rising.

The hint was too marked to remain unnoticed by Maurice, in spite of his bewilderment, and he also rose.

"If I had been aware of this fact I should not have trespassed upon your time, sir; for, it is not difficult to perceive that you have formed an opinion of my character which cannot readily be altered."

"I judge men by their actions rather than by their words and manners: a very homely rule, sir, but one which is not subject to change at my time of life."

The bow which closed this sentence was too pointedly a parting salutation to be mistaken. Maurice returned it, and, without another word, went forth. He hurried to Brown's hotel in the hope of unravelling the mystery.

Meantime, the Countess de Gramont had been thrown, by the reception of Mr. Emerson's letter, into a state of excitement almost equal to that of Maurice. Over and over again she read the few lines acknowledging the sum of ten thousand dollars sent by her, and the information that the legal proceedings about to be instituted against the Viscount de Gramont would be arrested.

The letter was in English; thus her difficulty in comprehending its contents was increased, and, though she was tolerably conversant with the language, she imagined that she must have misunderstood the words before her.

The countess requested Bertha to read and translate the letter.

"Aunt," cried Bertha, "what is this about ten thousand dollars? You cannot have sent this gentleman ten thousand dollars, and yet he makes you a formal acknowledgment that the money has been received. There must be some error."

"The error itself is an impertinence," returned the lady. "Does this low person imagine that the Countess de Gramont meddles with business matters?—with the sending of money and the receiving of receipts?"

At that moment Maurice entered, and his grandmother, taking the letter from Bertha, and placing it in his hand, accosted him with no little asperity of tone.

"What is the meaning of this?"

He glanced over the letter hurriedly and replied, "It is of you that I should ask that question, my grandmother, and I must also ask how I am to thank you for making me so deeply your debtor, and at a moment when, for the first time in my life, my honor was implicated!"

"Your honor implicated? Your honor? The honor of a de Gramont? What do you mean?"

"Had you not, in some inexplicable manner, become aware of my position, and paid those ten thousand dollars with such liberality and promptitude, I should have been—I cannot bear the thought! The very remembrance of the position from which I have been extricated cuts me to the soul."

"Are you mad, Maurice?" demanded the countess. "I pay ten thousand dollars for you? What do I know about money?"

"Then the money was not sent to Mr. Emerson by you?" inquired Maurice, more bewildered than ever.

"Mr. Emerson? Who is Mr. Emerson? I never heard of the person."

Maurice turned to Bertha. The idea at once suggested itself that she had used her aunt's name to conceal her own generosity.

"And you, Bertha,—do you also disclaim all knowledge of the transaction?"

"Yes, I only wish I had known."

"It was not you, then?" replied Maurice, more and more astonished. "Who could it have been? I have no intimate friend in Washington but Gaston de Bois, and he has not the power to do me this service."

"Was he aware of the circumstances which made you need this sum?" asked Bertha.

"He certainly knew something of the transaction, but I do not think"—

"That is enough!" she replied, joyfully. "If he knew anything about it, I know from whom the money came. There is but one person who could have sent it; and that is Madeleine!"

"Madeleine?"

"Yes, Madeleine,—our own, generous Madeleine," returned Bertha. "M. de Bois is her trusted friend and counsellor."

The Countess de Gramont rose up majestically, white with rage.

"But what right has she, the mantua-maker, the tradeswoman, to make use of my name? How did she dare even to allow it to be suspected that I had ever come in contact with a person who has so demeaned herself? It is unpardonable audacity!"

"You little know the full value of the service she has rendered me!" exclaimed Maurice, unheeding his grandmother's anger.

"A service which you must not and shall not stoop to accept. Never will I consent to that," returned the countess, fiercely. "Would you profit by her ignoble labor? Has your residence in this plebeian land bowed you as low as that?"

"If," replied Maurice, "it be a blow to my pride to be forced to accept her aid (for it has been tendered in a manner which cannot now be declined), it is a blow which has lifted me up, not bowed me down. It has made me feel that a great spirit which humbles itself and bends meekly to circumstance and does not regard any toil, nearest to its hand, as too lowly,—that spirit has truest cause for pride, since it earns the privilege of serving others. You have yet to learn that Madeleine's timely assistance has saved, not me alone, but our whole family from disgrace,—ay, positive disgrace! If you would know more on that subject, I refer you to my father. For myself, I will seek Madeleine and discover whether she has indeed made me so greatly her debtor."

The countess would have detained him; but Maurice was gone before she could speak.

He had alluded to his father as involved in this mysterious affair, which the countess was now tremblingly desirous of solving. She sought Count Tristan. He was in the drawing-room, where Maurice had left him. He sat beside the table,—his hands clinched, his head bowed, his face rigid in its expression of stony despair. He looked like a man who awaited the sentence of death.

The entrance of the countess scarcely roused him; nor did he hear, or rather heed, her first address. But when she placed the letter, received from Mr. Emerson, in his hand, and asked him if he knew what it meant, he sprang from his seat with a sudden burst of half-frantic joy.

"Who has done this?" he almost shrieked out.

"Who indeed?" returned his mother. "It has been suggested that it may be one of the evidences of Madeleine's presumption. I can scarcely credit it. I can scarcely believe she would have the audacity to use my name, or occupy herself with the affairs of my family. Yet there is no one else"—

"It is like her! It is she! And may Heaven bless her for it!" cried the count, stirred by a sudden impulse of genuine gratitude. "I must have confirmation! I must go to her at once!"

"Yes, go to her," replied his mother; "but let it be to inform her that we disdain her bounty; that we are astonished at her temerity in offering it; and that we hope never to hear from her again."

Count Tristan had left the room before his mother had finished speaking,—an act of disrespect of which he had never before been guilty. Exasperated by his manner even more than by that of Maurice, and dreading the result of their interview with Madeleine, the countess resolved herself to take a step which would make her niece conscious of her true position and of the light in which her presumption was viewed by her aunt. She determined to follow her son to Madeleine's residence and to give her a lesson, in the presence of the count and Maurice, which would be the last he would ever need.

She had rung the bell to order a carriage, when Bertha entered. Learning her destination and its object, Bertha expressed her intention of accompanying her; and to this the countess could not object.