her bright eyes, deepened into tenderness, seemed to ask, "He melancholy
--and why?"

On leaving Violante's room, Lady Lansmere paused before the door of
Helen's; and, after musing a little while, entered softly.

Helen had dismissed her maid; and, at the moment Lady Lansmere entered,
she was kneeling at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped before her
face.

Her form, thus seen, looked so youthful and child-like, the attitude
itself was so holy and so touching, that the proud and cold expression on
Lady Lansmere's face changed. She shaded the light involuntarily, and
seated herself in silence that she might not disturb the act of prayer.

When Helen rose, she was startled to see the countess seated by the fire,
and hastily drew her hand across her eyes. She had been weeping.

Lady Lansmere did not, however, turn to observe those traces of tears,
which Helen feared were too visible. The countess was too absorbed in
her own thoughts; and as Helen timidly approached, she said--still with
her eyes on the clear low fire--"I beg your pardon, Miss Digby, for my
intrusion; but my son has left it to me to prepare Lord Lansmere to learn
the offer you have done Harley the honour to accept. I have not yet
spoken to my Lord; it may be days before I find a fitting occasion to do
so; meanwhile I feel assured that your sense of propriety will make you
agree, with me that it is due to Lord L'Estrange's father, that strangers
should not learn arrangements of such moment in his family before his own
consent be obtained."