CHAPTER XXXIX. A CRUSHING BLOW. The next morning when the company met at breakfast, Josephine experienced a feeling of intense relief upon learning that Lord Carrol had been called away to London at an early hour on “important business.” This was the day of their departure also, and she was not sorry to leave the house which had been the scene of her humiliation and despair over her unrequited love. The meal was not a very social one, for every one was tired out with last night’s dissipation, and it required more of an effort than they felt capable of making to be very merry. After it was over, and as Josephine was passing through the hall on her way to her own room, she espied the morning papers lying on the table. Mechanically she took up one, glancing carelessly over the columns, when almost the first thing she saw was a notice of the arrival of a steamer from New York two days previous, with a list of the passengers below. A lurid light shot into her eyes and an angry exclamation burst from her lips as she read; for, among the other names in that list, she read those of Jacob Rosevelt, Miss Star Gladstone and maid, from New York. “What on earth can have possessed them to come aboard just at this time?” she muttered, with lowering brow. “If they had only waited a month they would have missed him, but now they will be sure to meet.” She took the paper and went up stairs to her mother’s room, and showed the notice to her. She was very angry also. “It seems as if that girl was bound to be the ruination of us. They are continually crossing our path, and I declare it is more than human nature can patiently bear. I wonder what has brought them to England?” “I suppose Uncle Jacob thinks he must give his charming _protegee_ every advantage possible,” Josephine sneered, bitterly. “Well, I’m sure we do not need to mind them now,” Mrs. Richards said, with a sigh of satisfaction. “Even if she gets every penny of his money, your position will henceforth be far superior to hers.” “I don’t know about that,” the girl retorted, with a painful flush. “If Lord Carrol meets her, and they make up their quarrel, I shall still be rather in the background, I imagine.” “True; I had not thought of that,” her mother replied with a blank look. “I wish you could have managed to entrap him, Jo.” “Jo” bit her lips until the blood spurted from them, as she remembered how her “trap” had sprung and wounded only herself. “Lord Carrol is a _fool_!” she said, passionately. Her mother looked up at her searchingly, mistrusting that her daughter had more reason for her pale face and heavy eyes than she knew of. “If only that marriage last night could have been a real one, I should have been the happiest woman in England this morning,” she said, wistfully. “With one exception,” Josephine thought, with a bitter sigh and a hard glitter in her eyes; but she said nothing.