I could have borne his
father's perfidy; but insult, oppression, from my child! Oh, Mary,
may you never know its bitterness!"
Miss Beaufort could only answer with her tears.
After a pause of many minutes, in which the countess strove to
tranquillize her spirits, she resumed in a more composed voice.
"Excuse me for an instant, my dear Miss Beaufort; I must write to Mr.
Constantine. I have yet to inform him that my absence is to be added
to his other misfortunes."
With her eyes now raining down upon the paper, she took up a pen and
hastily writing a few lines, was sealing them when Mary, looking up,
hardly conscious of the words which escaped her, said, with
inarticulate anxiety, "Lady Tinemouth, you know much of that noble
and unhappy young man?" Her eyes irresolute and her cheek glowing,
she awaited the answer of the countess, who continued to gaze on the
letter she held in her hand, as if in profound thought; then all at
once raising her head, and regarding the now downcast face of her
lovely friend with tenderness, she replied, in a tone which conveyed
the deep interest of her thoughts:--
"I do, Miss Beaufort; but he has reposed his griefs in my friendship
and honor, therefore I must hold them sacred."
"I will not ask you to betray them," returned Mary, in a faltering
voice; "yet I cannot help lamenting his sufferings, and I esteeming
the fortitude with which he supports his fall.
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