As we are already aware, Madeleine absolved herself from her usual duties for one day, and made Ruth her representative in the working department. In spite of Madeleine's habitual self-control, she experienced some slight stirrings of irritation when Victorine, who deemed herself a privileged person, intruded upon her privacy.

"Pardon, mademoiselle," began the consequential forewoman. "I should not have ventured to disturb you, but there is a matter of importance to be settled. Madame Orlowski has come in person to order six ball-dresses; and she is not satisfied to decide upon the varieties of style that will most become her without consulting Mademoiselle Melanie herself. She insisted upon my bringing you this message."

"You have done wrong," answered Madeleine, somewhat less gently than was her wont.

"But in a case of such great importance"—began Victorine, flushing angrily.

Madeleine interrupted her with a slight touch of sarcasm in her tone: "It is, no doubt, inconceivable to you that my mind should be occupied with matters of even greater importance than six ball dresses for one lady. Still, I must be tyrannical enough to request you to believe so, and not to allow me to be molested again. At all events," she added, her good-humor returning, "I venture to hope that I have not often subjected you to tyranny or caprice."

"No, no, certainly not," responded Victorine, a little mollified. "And since it was so obvious that mademoiselle had something upon her mind, I have exerted myself as much as possible to prevent her being annoyed."

"Thank you; have the goodness to send Robert here."

This order was so pointedly a dismissal that the forewoman had no excuse to linger. She left the room thoroughly convinced that Mademoiselle Melanie was in love,—in love at last! The house would soon be gayer; Mademoiselle Melanie would leave the business more in her forewoman's hands; the pleasant change so long desired was coming about; but she could not rest until she discovered the object of Mademoiselle Melanie's attachment. One thing was certain: there was romance and mystery about the whole affair, and this lent zest to the Frenchwoman's enjoyment.

Victorine not only summoned Robert, but stole after him on tiptoe to the door of Madeleine's boudoir to hear what order was given. She distinctly caught these words:—

"You will admit no one but the Count de Gramont and M. Maurice de Gramont."

"The Count de Gramont and his son!" said Victorine to herself, as she hurried back to her satins and velvets; "Oh, this is decidedly getting interesting,—Mademoiselle Melanie aims high,—and, in spite of her prudence and propriety, she—well, well, we shall see! It's always still water that runs deepest. The Count de Gramont and his son! Dear me, Mademoiselle Melanie would do better if she made me her confidante at once."

Victorine, as she excused Mademoiselle Melanie to the Countess Orlowski, could not help dropping a hint that Mademoiselle Melanie might not in future be so wholly at the command of her customers,—she would receive more visitors of her own,—there were noblemen from her own country who were to have free access.

When Madame Orlowski departed and the forewoman returned to the work-room, these inuendoes were repeated, and caused no little excitement among the group of young women, who revered Madeleine almost as though she were a patron saint, and they the most devout Catholics. Ruth was highly indignant; but to have admonished the circulator of the intelligence, by even the faintest reproach, would have been to make matters worse, and to induce Mademoiselle Victorine to defend her rash assertions by still rasher ones.

Madeleine was not destined to enjoy the uninterrupted solitude she so much desired, for Robert had scarcely received his orders to admit no one, when he returned to the boudoir with a card in his hand. He presented it with hesitation in spite of the large bribe he had received.

"His lordship insisted upon my taking his card to Mademoiselle," he said apologetically.

"You should not have transgressed my orders," answered Madeleine, with some show of impatience. "I have given you the names of the only persons whom you were to admit to-day."

"I understand that, mademoiselle, but his lordship would not be denied, and said that he called upon a matter of the greatest importance, and that he knew Mademoiselle Melanie would see him."

Madeleine could not, after this, refuse to allow Lord Linden to enter; he no doubt brought her some information concerning the vote which she had charged him to obtain.

Lord Linden's countenance, which usually wore a moody, discontented expression, was bright with expectation, as he entered Madeleine's presence.

"You will pardon," he began, "my refusing to accept your servant's denial; I based my hopes of forgiveness upon the good tidings which I bring. My advocacy, or rather my sister's (but that is entre nous), has not been used in vain with Mr. Rutledge; he had definitely made up his mind to cast his vote differently, but his gallantry could not withstand a fair lady's solicitation;—he is too thoroughly an American for that, and you may depend upon his vote."

"I am more deeply grateful to you than you can imagine! I thank you heartily!" exclaimed Madeleine, extending her hand with impulsive frankness, but the action was checked almost as quickly as made. For a moment she had forgotten the difference of station which she wished him to believe existed between them.

"Do not withdraw your hand," he pleaded, making an attempt to imprison that hand in his own. But he had the good taste instantly to abandon his intention when he saw Madeleine's reluctance. "As you will; I am more than satisfied by the assurance that I have a claim upon your gratitude."

"You have, indeed, my lord; I am truly grateful."

"I will only ask in return," commenced his lordship, "that you will listen to me for a few moments; that you will allow me to tell you what is in my mind,—my heart."

Madeleine saw that the evil hour could not be escaped, or postponed, and she answered with calm dignity which would have awed a man less under the dominion of passion, "You are at liberty to speak, my lord; yet what is there of importance which your lordship can have to say to the mantua-maker?"

Lord Linden, at first, found it difficult to avail himself of the privilege so frigidly given; but he soon collected himself.

"The mantua-maker? How little that title seems to belong to you! The proudest, the noblest lady could not have inspired me with the respect, the veneration I feel for you."

"Respect is peculiarly grateful to one in my position;" answered Madeleine pointedly.

This answer seemed to suggest that he might be forgetful of the respect due to her, and confused him for a moment; but such an opportunity as the present was not to be lost. He went on with renewed animation.

"From the first moment that I met you,—from the moment when, during that memorable journey, you shone forth as the guardian angel of all the suffering—and especially mine"—

Madeleine tried to restrain him again, by saying, with a forced smile,—

"An angelic mantua-maker! You have a great faculty of idealizing, my lord. I believe the extent of my services to you consisted in the sacrifice of an old pocket-handkerchief, torn into strips for a bandage, and the use of my own especial implement, a needle, with which the bandages were sewed."

"I have those strips yet," replied the nobleman with ardor. "I shall never part with them,—they are invaluable to me; for, from the moment we met, I loved you!"

Madeleine was about to answer, but he frustrated her intention and went on,—

"You were lost to me for six months, yet I could not forget you. I sought you unceasingly, and thought to find you in the society of—of—of those who are not, in reality, your superiors—not your equals even; I found you at last—but let me pass that over; since I have had the happiness of seeing you again, every moment has increased my admiration,—my devotion."

Madeleine would have interrupted him, but was again prevented.

"If I had not the misfortune to be a nobleman, if I were not accountable to my family for the connection I formed, I would say to you, 'Will you honor me by becoming my wife?' Never have I met a woman who united in a higher degree all the attributes which are most beautiful in my eyes,—all that man could desire in a companion,—all the charms of person, intellect, soul!"

Madeleine took advantage of a moment's pause, for his lordship found it sufficiently difficult to proceed, and replied, with glacial dignity,—

"Were all your compliments as merited as you perhaps persuade yourself to imagine them to be, they would not alter the fact, my lord, that you are a nobleman and I a dress-maker."

"True," replied Lord Linden, undaunted by her chilling demeanor; "and it is not easy to break the iron bonds of conventionality. But, if the difference of our rank prevents my enjoying the triumph of presenting such a woman to the world as my wife, it does not prevent my renouncing the whole world for her,—it does not prevent my devoting my life to her,—my sharing with her some happy seclusion where I can forget everything except my vow to be hers only."

This time Madeleine allowed him to conclude without word or movement. She sat with her eyes fastened upon the ground, and though a bright, crimson spot burned on either cheek, her manner was as calm as though the offer just made her were full of honor. When it was unmistakable that he had finished speaking and awaited her answer, she said, in a firm voice, the mild serenity of which could not fail to penetrate the breast of the man who had just insulted her,—

"In other words, my lord, you have in the most delicate phrases in which infamy can be couched,—in phrases that are as flowers to hide the serpent beneath them, given me to understand that were I of your own rank you would address me as a man of honor might, and expect me to listen to you; but, as I am but a mantua-maker and you are a nobleman, you offer me dishonor in place of honor, and expect that I shall accept it as befitting my position."

"You use harsh language, my dear Mademoiselle Melanie,—language that"—

"That clearly expresses your meaning, and therefore sounds harshly. I am accustomed to speak plainly myself, and to strip of their flowery entourage the sentiments to which I listen. It may be an ungraceful habit, but it is a safe one. I am persuaded that if vice were always called by its true name, shame, misery, and ruin would darken fewer lives."

"Your candor is one of your greatest charms," said Lord Linden, who was deeply impressed by her singular and open treatment of a proposition which it had cost him a struggle to make.

"I am glad that you approve of my frankness, for I must be franker still. When I asked you a favor I was impelled by motives which may perhaps be explained to you hereafter; I was exceedingly unwilling to make the request which you so promptly accorded,—but the strength of those motives urged me to set aside prudence and reserve. I will not pretend to conceal that I feared you might be placed upon a footing of less restraint through the performance of the service I solicited at your hands, and that you might make your visits more frequent than I should be inclined to permit,—but I did not dream that the price you set upon the performance of this act of kindness was the privilege of offering me an insult."

"An insult? You do not imagine—you cannot suppose that I had any such intention?"

"You have spoken too plainly, my lord, to leave anything to my imagination; possibly, however, you may be acquainted with some fine phrase, unknown to me, in which you would couch what I have plainly styled, and as plainly comprehend to be an insult. Your advocacy with Mr. Rutledge has brought about a result which will benefit one who—who—who has the strongest claims upon me, and, under ordinary circumstances, I should have been your debtor. As it is, you and I are quits! The privilege of insulting me will suffice you! And now, my lord, you will excuse me, if, being a woman who earns her livelihood and whose time is valuable, I bring this interview to a close."

Madeleine, as she spoke, rose and courtesied, and would have passed out of the room; but Lord Linden, forgetting himself for a moment, prevented her exit by springing between her and the door.

"You will not leave me without, at least, one word of pardon?"

"I have said we were quits. You demanded a price for the service you rendered me; I have paid it by listening for the first time to language which, had I a father, or a brother, could not have been addressed to me with impunity; I have neither."

"Let me, at least, vindicate myself. You do not know to what lengths passion will drive a man."

"You are right, I never knew until now; I have learned to-day. Allow me to pass without the necessity of ringing for a servant."

"First you must hear me," exclaimed Lord Linden, almost beside himself at the prospect of her leaving him in anger, and closing her doors henceforward against him. "I know how contemptible I must seem in your eyes. I read it in your countenance; I have no excuse to offer, except the plea that my love for you overleapt the bounds of all discretion."

"I ask for no excuse," answered Madeleine, freezingly.

"I only plead for forgiveness; I only entreat that you will forget the error of which I have been guilty, that you will allow me to see you again; that you will permit me to endeavor to reinstate myself in your esteem."

"My lord, our intercourse is at an end. The service you have rendered me it is no longer in my power to refuse, but you have received its full equivalent. I can spare no more time in the discussion of this subject. Once more, I request you to let me pass without forcing me to ring the bell."

"I obey you, but on condition that I may return, if it be but once more. Promise to grant me one more interview, and I leave you on the instant; I implore you not to refuse."

He approached her, and before Madeleine was even aware of his intention, seized her hand.

The door opened; M. Maurice de Gramont was announced just as Madeleine snatched away the hand Lord Linden had taken, but not before the action had been noticed by Maurice.

He paused at the sight of the nobleman, but Madeleine relieved and rejoiced by the presence of her cousin, unreflectingly hastened toward, and greeted him with a beaming face.

Lord Linden's astonishment was eloquently portrayed upon his countenance. His hostess, recovering her presence of mind, turned to the nobleman, and bowing as courteously as though she had no cause for indignation, wished him good-morning. Her tone seemed to imply that he was taking his leave when Maurice entered. Lord Linden had no alternative but to withdraw.

Maurice, whose heart was swelling with deep gratitude, with increased tenderness, with exalted admiration, experienced, at the sight of Lord Linden, a sickening revulsion of feeling.

This nobleman, then, was received by Madeleine in her own especial apartment, the doors of which were only opened to her particular friends; he was alone with her, and his unusually agitated manner betrayed that he had been conversing upon some subject of the deepest interest. Madeleine, too, looked paler than usual, and the troubled expression which had displaced the wonted placidity of her countenance was, doubtless, owing to this unanticipated interruption.

As Lord Linden made his exit, he glanced at Maurice at once haughtily and inquiringly. What was this young man, of his lordship's own rank, doing here, in the boudoir of the mantua-maker? What claim had he to admission? Must he not be upon an intimate footing? for, had not Madeleine extended her hand to him without reserve, and as though she were greeting one who was far from a stranger?

"A lover!" exclaimed Lord Linden to himself as he closed the door; "a rival to whom she listens in spite of her bewitching prudery. It is incomprehensible! and yet it has inspired me with new courage; I will not leave him an undisputed field."

He had approached the street-door when he reflected that something might be learned from Mademoiselle Melanie's employÉes. He turned back and went upstairs to the exhibition rooms.

Ruth Thornton received him; and, at his request, displayed shawls, mantles, scarfs innumerable. He had desired to see these articles on the plea of making a selection for his sister. Hardly looking at them, he purchased one of the most extravagant, while making an attempt to lure Ruth into conversation. She replied simply and politely, but appeared to be only interested in her occupation, and quite to ignore the occasional gallantry of his remarks. He was on the point of desisting, when Victorine, who had been attending to customers in another apartment, chanced to look into this room, saw Lord Linden, recognized him as the gentleman with whom she had noticed Mademoiselle Melanie earnestly conversing on the day previous, and at once came forward as though to assist Ruth. The latter had been rendered very uncomfortable by the deportment of his lordship, and was only too glad to retire, leaving the forewoman alone with Lord Linden.

The nobleman added so largely to his purchase that Lady Augusta's astonishment must be greatly excited by the number of shawls and scarfs which her brother deemed it possible for a lady to bring into use during a season.

As may be supposed, it was not difficult to lure the lively Frenchwoman into talking of the head of the establishment; and she very speedily gratified Lord Linden by communicating as much of Mademoiselle Melanie's history as she herself knew. But had Mademoiselle Melanie lovers? Or was her vestal-like demeanor genuine? This was difficult and delicate ground to tread upon; yet his lordship was too much in earnest not to venture a step or two.

The wily Victorine now assumed a mysterious air, for she entertained a suspicion that the gentleman did not make inquiries without being deeply interested in the answers. It would be impossible to relate precisely what she said. Her confidences were given more by inuendoes and arch glances and knowing shakes of the head, which suggest so much, because they leave so much to the imagination. Lord Linden received the impression that Mademoiselle Melanie, though much admired by the opposite sex, had conducted herself with exemplary decorum until lately; but, of late, certain mysterious proceedings had become known to the forewoman of which she did not wish to speak too unreservedly.

The handsome black lace shawl which Lord Linden begged Victorine to accept delighted her to a point which won further confidence; for, while folding it up with caressing touches, and thanking the donor with that grace which belongs to her nation, she admitted that there was a certain M. de Gramont who was enamored of Mademoiselle Melanie, and for whom the latter had evinced a marked preference, though Mademoiselle Melanie evidently wished to act with all possible discretion, and keep his attentions from the eyes of the public.

Be it understood, that with Victorine's lax ideas of morality, keeping an affaire de coeur from the eyes of the public was all that was necessary to preserve the honor of a woman who chose to indulge in a liaison.

Lord Linden had no alternative but to believe that Mademoiselle Melanie, in spite of her air of exquisite purity, and the chaste dignity which characterized all her words and actions, was, after all, not inaccessible. It was (he reflected) as much out of the question for the Viscount de Gramont to marry a mantua-maker as it was for Lord Linden to marry her; as a natural sequence, their intentions must be the same; and it remained to be proved which would be the successful lover.

He quitted the house enraged with himself for having been deceived; indignant with Madeleine for her successful acting; furious with Maurice, because he looked upon him as a rival; determined to seize an early opportunity of quarrelling with him, and resolved to find some pretext to gain admission to Mademoiselle Melanie's presence through the aid of her obliging forewoman.

Let us return to Maurice, whom we left in Madeleine's boudoir. When the door had closed upon Lord Linden, he said, in a wounded tone,—

"I thought only especial friends were admitted to this sanctum of yours. I did not know, Madeleine, that you were acquainted with Lord Linden."

"He came to bring Mademoiselle Melanie an important piece of information; and one which concerns you, Maurice."

Maurice was exasperated, rather than soothed, by this intelligence, and answered, hastily,—

"I am sorry for it. He belongs to a class of men whom I hold in supreme contempt;—a blasÉ idler, whose chief occupation in life is to kill time. Madeleine, forgive me! What a brute I am to speak so harshly when I come to thank you! But the sight of that senseless rouÉ in your boudoir, and apparently upon a familiar footing, has made an idiot of me. I will not pay you so bad a compliment as to suggest that he is the mysterious lover whom you have refused to name. But why is he here to-day? Why did I see him here yesterday? Why did he, yesterday, when he caught sight of me, suddenly disappear, as though desirous of eluding observation?"

"Maurice, if there be true affection between us," said Madeleine, gently, and laying her delicate white hand upon his, "if there be true, cousinly affection between us, we should trust each other wholly, and in spite of appearances. Though it is easy for me to explain why I admitted Lord Linden to a private interview, it may not always be equally easy to give you explanations; and we may bring great future sorrow upon each other if either give entertainment to a doubt."

"No, Madeleine, I can never doubt that all you do is well and wisely done. Would that I had no cause to doubt your affection for me; no cause to be distracted by jealousy when I see any other man allowed privileges which I long to claim as mine alone! But how is it possible to love you, and not to be hourly tormented by the position in which I am placed? Since you have rejected me as a lover, could I even be known to the world as your cousin, I might, at least, have the joy of protecting you. Must that, too, be denied me?"

"Yes, Maurice. Do you not know how important it is that our relationship should remain undivulged, unsuspected?"

"No; I cannot see the importance! I cannot submit to such an interdiction! Let my grandmother and my father say what they will, I am not bound to yield to so unnatural a request!"

"You will yield to it as my petition, Maurice. Think of it as a favor, a sacrifice I ask of you. If you refuse me, I shall believe that you feel I have no right to ask favors."

"No right? There you touch me deeply! Madeleine, I am here to-day to learn whether you have not laid me under the deepest obligation—whether it was not by you"—

Madeleine, though she was not a little discomposed by learning that her recent interference in his behalf was suspected, had presence of mind left to endeavor to divert his thoughts. She interrupted him by saying, in a lively tone,—

"I have made several vain attempts to explain Lord Linden's presence here, and you will not permit me to do so, though his visit concerns yourself. Have you no curiosity? I am half inclined to punish you for your indifference."

Before Maurice could reply, Count Tristan de Gramont was announced.

"It is you whom I have to thank,—you, good, generous, noble Madeleine, I am sure it is!" said he, excitedly. "It is your hand which has saved me and my son from the precipice over which we were suspended! I could scarcely credit the good news."

"If you talk of good news," replied Madeleine, "I have some to give you which I have just received from Lord Linden. Mr. Rutledge has promised his vote for the left road."

The count looked at her as though he could not trust his ears; then he said, in a tremulous voice that broke into a childish sob, "It is all wonder! You are the Fairy they called you, the magician,—the—the—the"—

Robert opened the door and announced the Countess de Gramont and Mademoiselle de Merrivale.