He pressed her little hand for a moment; it was a mighty advance for the General to do so, but the touch sent a thrill to his heart, and he thought how absurdly young she looked to be the mother of Dolores! 'Good heavens!' that young lady was thinking, 'wonders will never cease.' So the courteous gentleman, the brave Scottish soldier who had saved her--Lewie's terrible uncle--was her mother's early lover! 'The past is gone,' said the General gravely and sadly, and making an effort to withdraw, and yet staying nevertheless; 'so let us not tear open an old wound.' 'Pardon, and permit me to heal it, if I can,' said the Countess coquettishly, as she touched his bronzed hand with her lovely lips, and at this touch he trembled; so Dolores, saying something about taking off her ornaments, withdrew and left them, wonder and joy mingling in her heart together, while the General made an effort to appear indifferent, and to speak calmly, an effort in which he, eventually, signally failed. 'It is strange, madame,' said he; 'but I have lived so completely in camp and caserne, that I knew not that Mercedes--the Mercedes of other days, and the Countess van Renslaer, of whom my nephew speaks so much, were one and the same.' 'My husband, the Lieutenant----' The General coughed, and said interrupting: 'Whom you preferred to poor John Kinloch of the Scots Brigade--well?' 'Died soon after succeeding to his title--a Flemish one--and I have been a widow since.' 'All these years?' 'All these years.' Her long dark eyelashes flickered as she looked coyly at him, and then cast them down. 'I have never cared for another woman since _that_ time,' said the General after a pause; 'and I never shall if I lived for--for--as long as the Brigade has been in Holland--and that is two hundred years.' She laughed, but noiselessly; for she knew that when he began to talk thus, how his thoughts were wandering, and that he might, after all, begin to think that his future, for pleasure or pain, lay in the little white hands of the charming widow before him--of herself--the Mercedes of his early days by the Berbice river. 'As for the Count----' she began, but paused, for the General made a gesture of impatience, and playing with his sword-knot, said: 'Well, you married him, and not John Kinloch. You are a free woman now; would you like to take my heart in your toils again, Mercedes, to make sport of it after all these years?' 'Do not speak to me thus,' said she in her most seductive voice, as she touched his hand caressingly; 'I say too, after all these years, do not be so implacable. Ah! what must I think of you?' 'Think what you please.' Again the long lashes flickered, and the snow-white eyelids drooped. The General felt his position was becoming imperilled, that he 'was getting his flanks turned,' and so forth; and he rose to retire. But the General resumed his seat, and began to look a little vacantly and helplessly about him. CHAPTER XI.