“But we shall meet again, although I have to cross the seas to find you, my dearest,” she cried, tenderly; and Thea answered, earnestly: “But for that hope I could not bear to be parted from you.” She meant every word, for her heart clung with strange tenderness to the gentle, lovely woman, and it was with a bitter pang that she drew herself at last from the tender clasping arms and prepared to go with her husband. Lord Stuart, too, parted from her with genuine regret. “It almost seems as if you belonged to us by ties of blood, you have grown so dear,” he said; and he begged Norman to let her accept a parting gift from him--a diamond necklace of great value that had once belonged to his mother. Norman was touched by the kindness and affection of these new friends, but he did not wonder at it. Thea was so beautiful and winning it would have seemed more strange if they had not loved her, he thought. But at last they had parted, and the homeward journey was accomplished. Mrs. de Vere had come to New York to meet their steamer. She was too impatient to remain at home. She showered Thea with caresses and praises. “You are more lovely than ever,” she said, “and you have made me so happy I have nothing left to wish for in the world.” They remained in New York several days, and the old lady, in spite of her happiness, did not forget her dead daughter-in-law. She ordered a beautiful bouquet, and drove alone to Greenwood to lay it on Camille’s grave. “I would have gone with you if I had known,” Thea said, when she told her where she had been. “I would have asked you, dear, only I knew Norman would not like it.” “Not like it? But will he not go there himself?” Thea asked, a slight flush rising to her fair brow. “No; I do not believe that he will. He was most unreasonably harsh toward poor Camille. They were separated through his jealousy, you know, dear, and no harm was ever really proved against her, but he never forgave her--does not even forgive her in her grave, I fear. But there, I ought not to be talking with you, child, about Norman’s first wife. He would not like it, I am sure, so do not tell him I went to Camille’s grave. Poor soul! I could not slight her memory.” “You were fond of her?” Thea asked, timidly. “Yes; but not so much as I am of you, Sweetheart. She was a little strange at times, and so fond of Norman that I fancy she was jealous even of his love for his mother. But naturally I forgave her that. I think if Heaven had blessed her as it has you, dear, that no trouble would have come between them. But it chafed her that no child came, and she threw herself into the whirl of society. She was too fond of admiration. My dear, never forget that your husband is a passionately jealous man. Never trifle with his heart.”