“Is her husband with her?” asked ’Lena, to which Mabel replied, that she understood she was alone.

“Then I’ll see her and know what she means,” thought ’Lena, trembling, even then, at the idea of venturing into the presence of the cold, haughty woman.

* * * * * *

Supper was over at the Weisiger House, and in a handsome private parlor Mrs. Graham lay, half asleep, upon the sofa, while in the dressing-room adjoining Durward sat, trying to frame a letter which should tell poor ’Lena that their intimacy was forever at an end.  For hours, and until the last gleam of daylight had faded away, he had sat by the window, watching each youthful form which passed up and, down the busy street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her who once had made his world.  But his watch was in vain, and now he had sat down to write, throwing aside sheet after sheet, as he thought its beginning too cold, too harsh, or too affectionate.  He was about making up his mind not to write at all, but to let matters take their course, when a knock at his mother’s door, and the announcement that a lady wished to see her arrested his attention.

“Somebody want to see me?  Just show her up,” said Mrs. Graham, smoothing down her flaxen hair, and wiping from between her eyes a spot of powder which the opposite mirror revealed.

In a moment the visitor entered—­a slight, girlish form, whose features were partially hidden from view by a heavy lace veil, which was thrown over her satin hood.  A single glance convinced Mrs. Graham that it was a lady, a well-bred lady, who stood before her, and very politely she bade her be seated.

Rather haughtily the proffered chair was declined, while the veil was thrown aside, disclosing to the astonished gaze of Mrs. Graham the face of ’Lena Rivers, which was unnaturally pale, while her dark eyes grew darker with the intensity of her feelings.

“’Lena Rivers! why came you here?” she asked, while at the mention of that name Durward started to his feet, but quickly resumed his seat, listening with indescribable emotions to the sound of a voice which made every nerve quiver with pain.

“You ask me why I am here, madam,” said ’Lena.  “I came to seek an explanation from you—­to know of what I am accused—­to ask why you wrote me that insulting letter—­me, an orphan girl, alone and unprotected in the world, and who never knowingly harmed you or yours.”

“Never harmed me or mine!” scornfully repeated Mrs. Graham.  “Don’t add falsehood to your other sins—­though, if you’ll lie to my son, you of course will to me, his mother.”

“Explain yourself, madam, if you please,” exclaimed ’Lena, her olden temper beginning to get the advantage of her.

“And what if I do not please?” sneeringly asked Mrs. Graham.

“Then I will compel you to do so, for my good name is all I have, and it shall not be wrested from me without an effort on my part to preserve it,” answered ’Lena.