"I have said too much," she said, panting and moistening her parched lips. "I did not mean to tell you--no, I will not say another word. I don't know why I am so unnerved, why I take it so much to heart I think--Nell, I am fond of you; you know it?" Nell made a gesture of assent, and touched the countess' clasped hands lovingly, tenderly. "I--I think it is your presence here that--that has made me hesitate--has made me realize the gravity of what I am going to do. I--I never look at you, hear you speak, but I am reminded that I was once, and not so long ago, as innocent as you. But I can hesitate no longer. I have to decide, and I have decided!" She rose and stood with her hands before her face for the moment; then she let them fall with a sigh, and forced a smile. "Go now, dear!" she said. "I--I wish I had not spoken so freely; but that tender, loving heart of yours is hard to resist." "What is it you have decided to do?" Nell asked, scarcely above her breath. A deep red rose slowly to the countess' face, then slowly faded, leaving it pale and wan, and set with determination. "I cannot tell you, Nell," she said. "You--you will know soon enough. And when you know, I want you--I want you to think not too badly of me, to remember how much I have suffered, how hard and cruel my life has been--how I have hungered and thirsted for one word, one look of love; that I have struggled and striven against my fate, and have yielded only when I could endure no longer. Oh, go now, dear!" "Let me stay with you to-night! I can sleep on this couch--on this chair--beside you, if you like," pleaded Nell, confused and frightened, but aching with pity and sympathy. "I know that it is all wrong, that you are mistaken. If I could only convince you! If I could only tell you what I saw in Lord Wolfer's eyes as he looked at you to-night!" The countess shook her head. "It is you who are mistaken," she said, "and it is too late. No, you shall not stay. I have done wrong to say so much. Try--try and forget it. But yet--no, don't forget it, Nell. Remember me and my wretchedness, and let it be a warning to you, if ever you are tempted to marry a man who does not love you, whom you do not love. Ah, but you must go, Nell! I am worn out!" Nell went to her and put her arm round her neck, and drew her face down that she might kiss her, but the countess gently put Nell's arm from her, and drew back from the proffered kiss. "No; you shall not kiss me!" she said, in a low voice. "You will be glad that you did not--presently! Stay--give me that flower!" she said, holding out her hand, but looking away. Nell started, and drew the flower from her bosom as if it had been something poisonous, and flung it in the fire. The countess shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference, and turned to watch the flower withering and consuming in the fire, and Nell, with something like a sob, left her.