course he is anxious to see you." Then the Earl would kiss her hand, and in her mother's presence she had not the courage,--perhaps she had not the strength,--to withdraw it. In these days the Countess was not cruelly stern as she had been. Bedside nursing hardly admits of such cruelty of manner. But she never spoke to her child with little tender endearing words, never embraced her,--but was to her a careful nurse rather than a loving mother. Then by degrees the girl got better, and was able to talk. "Mamma," she said one day, "won't you sit by me?" "No, my dear; you should not be encouraged to talk." "Sit by me, and let me hold your hand." For a moment the Countess gave way, and sat by her daughter, allowing her hand to remain pressed beneath the bedclothes;--but she rose abruptly, remembering her grievance, remembering that it would be better that her child should die, should die broken-hearted by unrelenting cruelty, than be encouraged to think it possible that she should do as she desired. So she rose abruptly and left the bedside without a word. "Mamma," said Lady Anna; "will Lord Lovel be here to-day?" "I suppose he will be here." "Will you let me speak to him for a minute?" "Surely you may speak to him." "I am strong now, mamma, and I think that I shall be well again some day. I have so often wished that I might die." "You had better not talk about it, my dear." "But I should like to speak to him, mamma, without you." "What to say,--Anna?" "I hardly know;--but I should like to speak to him. I have something to say about money." "Cannot I say it?" "No, mamma. I must say it myself,--if you will let me." The Countess looked at her girl with suspicion, but she gave the permission demanded. Of course it would be right that this lover should see his love. The Countess was almost minded to require from Lady Anna an assurance that no allusion should be made to Daniel Thwaite; but the man's name had not been mentioned between them since the beginning of the illness, and she was loth to mention it now. Nor would it have been possible to prevent for long such an interview as that now proposed. "He shall come in if he pleases," said the Countess; "but I hope you will remember who you are and to whom you are speaking." "I will remember both, mamma," said Lady Anna. The Countess looked down on her daughter's face, and could not help thinking that her child was different from what she had been. There had been almost defiance in the words spoken, though they had been spoken with the voice of an invalid. At three o'clock that afternoon, according to his custom, Lord Lovel came, and was at once told that he was to be spoken to by his cousin. "She says it is about money," said the Countess. "About money?"