This relieved Pembroke of a load of care--the folly of that quarrel was luckily escaped. But he debated seriously with himself whether he ought not to tell Madame Koller of Ahlberg’s behavior, that she might be on her guard against him. In a day or two he heard, what did not surprise him, that Ahlberg was about to leave the country--but at the same time that Madame Koller and her mother were to leave The Beeches rather suddenly. Mrs. Peyton met him in the road, and stopped her carriage to tell him about Eliza Peyton’s consummate folly in allowing that Ahlberg to stick to her like a burr--they actually intended crossing in the same steamer. That determined Pembroke. He rode over to The Beeches, and sitting face to face with Madame Koller in her drawing-room, told her the whole story. Pembroke was somewhat shocked to observe how little she seemed shocked at Ahlberg’s conduct. It was certainly very bad, but--but--she had known him for so long. Pembroke was amazed and disgusted. As he was going, after a brief and very business-like visit, Madame Koller remarked, “And it is so strange about Louis. The very day after it happened, he was notified of his appointment as First Secretary in the Russian diplomatic service--or rather his re-appointment, for he was in it ten years--and he has come into an excellent property--quite a fortune in fact for a first secretary.” Pembroke rode back home slowly and thoughtfully. He had never before realized how totally wanting Madame Koller was in integrity of mind. Olivia Berkeley now-- CHAPTER XIV. IT takes a long time for a country neighborhood to recover from a sensation. Three or four years after Madame Koller, or Eliza Peyton had disappeared along with her mother and Ahlberg, people were still discussing her wonderful ways. Mr. Cole was paying his court mildly to Olivia Berkeley, but in his heart of hearts he had not forgotten his blonde enslaver. The Colonel was the same Colonel--his shirt-ruffle rushed out of his bosom as impetuously as of old. He continued to hate the Hibbses. Dashaway had been turned out to grass, but another screw continued to carry the Colonel’s colors to defeat on the county race track. Olivia, too, had grown older, and a great deal prettier. A chisel called the emotions, is always at work upon the human countenance--a face naturally humane and expressive grows more so, year by year.