Leaving the train, the girl took the path through the woods. When she had traversed it half way, she came upon old Hagar, who was seated upon a fallen log awaiting her. Looking cautiously about, to assure herself that the interview would have no spectators, Madeline, or Celine, as we must now call her, seated herself to listen to the report of Davlin's visit, and the success of Hagar's interview with Cora.

Expressing herself fully satisfied with what she heard, Celine made the old woman acquainted with the result of her visit to the city, or as much of it as was necessary and expedient. Then, after some words of mutual council, and a promise to visit her that evening, if possible, the girl lost no time in making her way to the manor, and straight into the presence of her mistress.

Considering that her maid was--her maid, Miss Arthur welcomed her with an almost rapturous outburst. Celine had held high place in the affections of Miss Arthur, truth to tell, since her astonishing discovery of Mr. Edward Percy, in the character of young Romeo, promenading within sight of his lady's window.

"Celine," simpered Miss Arthur, while the damsel addressed was brushing out her mistress's hair, preparatory to building it into a French wonder; "Celine, I may be wrong in talking so freely to you about myself and my--my friends, but I observe that you never presume in the least--"

"Oh, mademoiselle, I could never do that!" cooed the girl, with wicked double meaning.

"And," pursued Miss Arthur, graciously, "you are really quite a sagacious and discreet young person."

"Thanks, miladi." Then, as if recollecting herself, "Pardon, _mademoiselle_, but you are so like her ladyship, _Madame Le Baronne De Orun_, my very first mistress--"

"Oh, I don't mind it at all, Celine. As I was saying, you seem quite a superior young person, and no doubt I am not the first who has made you a sort of _confidante_.

"Merci! no; my lady. _Madame Le Baronne_ used to trust me with _everything_, and often deigned to ask my advice. But French ladies, oui, mademoiselle, always put confidence in their maids. And a maid will die rather than betray a good mistress--"

"Exactly, Celine--are you going to put my hair so high?"

"Very high, _miladi_."

"Oh, well; will it be becoming?"

"Oui; La mode la Francaise," relapsing into ecstacy and French. _"Le coiffeur comme il faut! Chere amie, le-chef-a-oeuvre!_"

Miss Arthur collapsed, and Celine continued to build up an atrociously unbecoming pile of puffs and curls in triumphant silence.

Celine never indulged in her native tongue, so she assured her mistress, except when carried away by momentary enthusiasm, or unwonted emotion. It was bad taste, she averred, and she desired to cultivate the beautiful American language.

Presently Miss Arthur made another venture, feeling quite justified in following in the footsteps of so august a personage as _Madame Le Baronne_.

"Did you see Mr. Percy after you left Bellair?"

"No, mademoiselle."

"Did you observe if he returned in the same train with yourself?"

"No, mademoiselle." Then, with a meaning little laugh: "Monsieur will not remain long from Oakley."

Miss Arthur tried to look unconscious, and succeeded in looking idiotic.

"Pardon, mademoiselle, but I can't forget that night. Mademoiselle is surely relieved of one fear."

"What is that?"

"The fear of being wooed because of her wealth."

Miss Arthur started, then said: "There may be something in that, Celine; and it is not impossible that I may inherit more."

"Ah?" inquiringly.

"Yes. Possibly you have learned from the servants that Mr. Arthur lost a young step-daughter not long ago; just before you came, in fact."

"I don't remember. Did she die, mademoiselle?"

"Yes. She was a very wild, unruly child, a regular little heathen--oh!"

"Pardon, oh, pardon, did it hurt?" removing a long, spiky hair pin, with much apparent solicitude.

"A--a little; yes. As I was saying, this ridiculous girl was sent to school and no expense spared to make a lady of her."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; and then she rewards my brother for all his kindness by running away."

"_Merci_, mademoiselle!" suddenly recalling her French.

"And then she died among strangers, just as provokingly as she had lived. She must even run away to die, to make it seem as if her home was not a happy one."

"What a very wicked young person; how you must have been annoyed."

"We were all deeply grieved."

"And I don't suppose that dead young woman was even grateful for that."

"Oh, there was no gratitude in her."

"Of course not! Now, mademoiselle, let me do your eyebrows," turning her about.

"But," pursued Miss Arthur, "when she died, my brother acquired unconditional control of a large fortune, and you must see that my brother is getting rather old. Well, in case of his death, a part, at least, of this fortune will become mine."

"Yes, madame."

"My brother is too much afraid to face the thought of death and make a new will, and papers are in existence that will give me the larger portion of his fortune. Of course, Mrs. Arthur will get her third."

Celine was now surprised in earnest.

Miss Arthur had spoken the truth. With shrewd foresight, she had made John Arthur sign certain papers two years before, in consideration of sundry loans from her. And of this state of affairs every one, except their two selves and the necessary lawyer, had remained in ignorance.

The girl's eyes gleamed. This was still better. It would make her vengeance more complete.

And now Miss Arthur was thrown into a state of girlish agitation by the appearance of Susan, who announced that Mr. Percy was in the drawing-room, awaiting the pleasure of his inamorata.

She bade Celine make haste with her complexion and, after the lapse of something like half an hour, swept down to welcome her lover, with a great many amber silk flounces following in her wake.

Celine Leroque gazed after her for a moment and then closed the door.

Flinging herself down "at ease" in the spinster's luxurious dressing chair, she pulled off the blue glasses and let the malicious triumph dance in her eyes as much as it would.