my own heart. I sometimes think you do not wish to please me in
anything."

"Oh!" cried Clemence, "how greatly you misunderstand me. You do not know
how much I love you. I have often wished that we were poor, so I could
have you all to myself, to show, by a lifetime of devotion, what is in
my heart."

The delicate lady, splendid in misty lace and jewels, gave a little
nervous shudder at the bare thought of poverty.

"What strange fancies you have, child, and how little you know of the
realities of life." But gazing into the pure face, with a vague dread
for that future, and knowing that One alone knew whether it might
contain happiness or misery for her darling, she said, with visible
emotion, "You are a good girl, Clemence, and whatever may be in the
future, remember that I always sought your welfare as the one great
object of my existence. Always remember that, Clemence."

"I will, my own dearest mother," the girl answered brokenly; and neither
could see the other through a mist of tears.

Was it a presentiment of their coming fate?

Clemence thought often, amid the gloom that followed, that it was; and
many times in her dream-haunted slumbers, murmured, "Always remember
that, Clemence; always remember that."

If the stylish Mrs. Graystone, who could boast of the most aristocratic
descent, and whose haughty family had considered it quite a