paper, which he had adroitly slipped into her hand, unobserved by any of her companions.
Under cover of the darkness she transferred it to her bosom, and the first moment that she found herself alone in her dressing-room, it was hastily drawn forth and read at a glance.
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes shone, as with a triumphant smile she refolded and laid it safely by.
On leaving the room to go down to her late breakfast the next morning, she carried it with her; for not for any consideration would she risk having it seen by other eyes than her own.
She was very late and a good deal flurried in consequence; her thoughts were busy, too, with the important step she had determined to take that night. In her absence of mind she must have been guilty of some carelessness, for on returning to her room, after dawdling for an hour over her meal in company with her aunt and sister, she was horrified to find that the note was missing.
In vain she searched her pockets, shook out the folds of her dress, hunted everywhere, even retracing her steps all the way to the breakfast parlor and looking under and around the table. It was hopelessly lost and she dare not make any ado or inquiry about it.
She was exceedingly fretted and troubled but must conceal her anxiety, only hoping that it had fallen into some place where it would be undiscovered until she and the count had made good their escape from Roselands, and placed themselves beyond successful pursuit.
Fortunately, as she esteemed it, no one had been witness to her perturbation, or her quest, Reba and their aunt having, upon leaving the table, retired together to the boudoir of the latter.
Dire would have been Juliet's anger and alarm could she have known what had actually become of her missing treasure.
Miss Worth, in passing between the schoolroom and her own apartment, caught sight of a bit of paper lying on the floor at the head of the stairway, and stooping, picked it up.
There was neither seal nor superscription upon the outside; therefore there seemed nothing wrong or dishonorable in opening it, for indeed how otherwise was she to learn to whom it belonged in order to restore it?
One glance told who was the writer (for she was no stranger to his peculiar chirography), to whom it was addressed, and what it signified.
"My Angel, one o'clock A. M. to-morrow. Signal, cry of an owl beneath your window. Carriage in waiting beyond the hedge.
"Your adorer."
That was all, but it needed not another word to let her, whose eyes now scanned it in indignant sorrow fully into their plans.
She sent a quick glance around to satisfy herself that she was unseen, then crushing the missive in her hand, went on her way deeply thankful that Juliet had lost and that she had found it.
Yet she was sorely perplexed and anxious; so disturbed that it was no easy matter to give the necessary attention to her pupils. What should she do? Appeal again to Juliet? It seemed utterly useless. But this thing must be prevented; yes, even though it cost her the loss of her situation.
But, Harry! she shuddered and turned sick and faint at the thought that he might be taken, identified, and put on trial for the crime committed years ago. He must be saved at all risks. She would go out, meet and warn him ere he had quite reached Roselands.
He would be furious; perhaps in his rage do her some bodily harm; but—he must be saved.
She would give this note to Mr. Dinsmore, she decided, telling him where she had found it, that she had been well acquainted with the writer in former years, and recognized the hand.
That would be sufficient to lead him to prevent Juliet's leaving the house, and if she could succeed in warning Harry away, going and returning unobserved, all would be well.
But her plans miscarried. Mr. Dinsmore, as she learned on seeking an interview, had left home after an early breakfast, taken hastily in his private room, and would not probably return until the next day.
Here was an unexpected difficulty; what now was she to do?
She was slowly mounting the stairs in half despairing mood, when a pleasant, girlish voice addressed her from the hall below.
"Miss Worth, Pomp has just got back from the city with the mail, and here is a letter for you."
Mildred bounded up the stairs with the last words, put the letter into the eagerly outstretched hand of the governess, and hurried on to her own room to revel in the delights of a long epistle from her mother and sisters.
She was not half through it when there came a rap upon her door, and with brows knitting with vexation at the unwelcome interruption, she rose to open it.
She started back with an exclamation of surprise and terror as Miss Worth tottered in with a face white even to the lips, and sank speechless into the nearest chair.
"What is it? what is it?" cried Mildred hastening to bring a glass of water, and hold it to her lips.
The governess swallowed a mouthful, seemingly with some difficulty, then putting it aside with her hand, "Don't be alarmed," she whispered, "I shall be over it in a moment. But it was such a shock; oh, how could he—how could he be so wicked!"
She ended with a burst of weeping.
Mildred's sympathies were fully aroused; laying her precious letter carefully away for future perusal, she gave herself to the task of soothing and comforting the poor distracted woman.
Miss Worth told her story brokenly, still concealing the nature of the tie that connected her with the pseudo count.
Her letter, from her sister, Mrs. Marks, told of the return to America of their scape-grace brother, that he had paid them a flying visit weeks ago, and gone again, they knew not whither, and that shortly after his departure there had come to them a young, pretty Italian peasant woman, who claimed to be his wife; showing in proof thereof, some trinkets which they recognized as having belonged to him, a marriage certificate, and a baby boy, who was his image.
Miss Worth simply stated to Mildred the facts in regard to the note she had picked up and that her letter had brought certain intelligence that Juliet's admirer had already a living wife.
"Oh, dreadful!" cried Mildred, "now surely you will warn her once more?"
"Yes, I will; though doubtless she will refuse to believe it of him."
"But she will not, she cannot be so infatuated as to go on and elope with him without full proof that the story of his marriage is false."
"I do not know that: she is so supremely silly. But Miss Mildred, I must see her alone, and how am I to manage it? I have only to-day."
Mildred looked thoughtful. "I don't see how yet, but I must contrive to make an opportunity for you," she said; and after a little more talk about ways and means, mingled with some words of sympathy and hope from the younger to the older girl, they parted; Mildred going down to luncheon, Miss Worth to her own room.
Half an hour later Mildred joined her there with a face that told of good news before she opened her lips.
"Aunt Dinsmore thinks uncle may be home to-night," she said, "and I noticed Juliet did not seem pleased to hear it. She asked
