Claire led the way straight to her own room. Ushering in her companion, she closed the door upon chance intruders, and turned to look at her. The stranger had appeared at the door in a dressing-gown of dark silk, and this she still wore, having thrown over it a long cloak, and wrapped about her head, so as to almost entirely conceal her features, a costly cashmere shawl. This she now removed, and revealed to the anxious gaze of Claire the face of a woman past the prime of life;--a face that had never been handsome, but which bore unmistakable signs of refinement and culture in every feature. The eyes were large, dark-gray, and undeniably beautiful. The hair was wavy and abundant; once it had been black as midnight, but now it was plentifully streaked with gray. The face was thin and almost colorless. The hands were still beautiful, with long slender fingers and delicate veining; the very _beau ideal_ of aristocratic hands. This much Claire saw almost at a glance. Then the lady said, in a low, sweet voice that was in perfect unison with the hands, and eyes, and general bearing: "I cannot tell you, dear young lady, how much I thank you for your courage and hospitality. I could not have endured the going out upon the street in that throng." Claire laughed softly, and said, with characteristic frankness: "I guessed that, madame, for I must confess to having, on more than one occasion, seen that you do not desire observation." [Illustration: "The mistress of all the doomed grandeur crossed the threshold for the last time."--page 293.] The stranger looked at her with evident admiration. "You were kinder and more thoughtful for a stranger than I have found most of our sex, Miss ----; I beg your pardon; I am so much of a hermit that I don't even know your name." "My name is Keith,--Claire Keith." Then the girl crossed to the window and looked over at the burning building, while the stranger sank wearily into a chair. "Your house is going fast, madame. I fear nothing can be saved," said Claire. "The upper floor is already gone." The stranger smiled slightly, but never so much as glanced out at her disappearing home. "I hope my landlord is well insured," she said. "As for me, I have my chiefest valuables here," drawing from underneath the cloak, which she had only partially thrown off, a small casket, and a morocco case that evidently contained papers. "I keep these always near me; as for the rest, there is nothing lost that money cannot replace." Claire looked a trifle surprised at her indifference to the destruction of her elegant furniture, but made no answer. And the stranger fell into thoughtful silence. A rap sounded on the door, and a gentle voice outside said: "Claire, dear, are you there?" The girl turned upon the stranger a look of embarrassed inquiry. "That is mamma," she said.