“But the by and by had never come until now. Anna was the creature of impulse, and while driving through the handsome grounds she had felt elated and proud, that she, little Anna Strong, who once sewed shoes in New England, and planned how to get an extra pair of gloves, should be riding in her carriage, the mistress of so much wealth, and her heart had thrilled a little for the man through whom this good fortune had come to her. But the gloomy chateau, and the still more gloomy court, had driven this all away, and a wave of genuine homesickness was sweeping over her when the serene face of Madame Verwest looked so kindly down upon her and brought the better feeling back. She _was_ happy. She was glad she was there, Mr. Haverleigh’s wife, and she called him Ernest purposely, and looked up in his face as she did so. Did he soften toward her at all? Possibly, for a red flush crept up to his hair; but he raised his hand as if to brush it away, and then he was himself again—the man who never forgave, and who could break a young girl’s heart even while seeming to caress her. If he heard Anna’s question with regard to Madam Verwest, he did not notice it or make her any answer. He merely took her arm in his, and, leading her up the broad stone steps, presented her to the lady as Madam Haverleigh, his wife. “Instantly there came a change over the placid features, which kindled with a strange light, and the dim eyes, which looked so accustomed to tears, fastened themselves eagerly upon the fair face of the young girl, and then were raised questioningly to the dark face of the man whose lips curled with a sneering smile, as he said, in French: “‘She does not understand a word. Ask me what you please.’ “‘Your wife truly!’ was the quick question of the woman, and Haverleigh replied: “‘Yes, truly. What do you take me for?’ “To this there was no answer, but the woman’s arms were stretched toward Anna with a quick, sudden motion, as if they fain would hold her a moment in their embrace; but a look from Mr. Haverleigh checked the impulse, and only madame’s hand was offered to Anna, who, nevertheless, felt the warm welcome in the way the fingers tightened round her own, and was sure she had found a friend. “‘Madame is very welcome, and I hope she will be happy here,’ the woman said; but she might as well have talked in Greek to Anna, who could only guess from her manner what she meant to say, and who smiled brightly back upon her, as she followed on up one narrow staircase after another, until they reached a lofty room, which she first thought a hall such as the New Englanders call a ball-room, but which she soon discovered to be the apartment intended for herself.