groaned aloud, and did everything but faint, and I might have
accomplished that feat if Clara (for she insisted on that appellation)
had not come in upon me, resolved to bring about different conditions.
She succeeded at last, and the afternoon found us quietly sitting
together in our middle room apparently enjoying ourselves, though I did
not forget Hal was gone, and a cloud of woe overspread my mental
horizon.




CHAPTER IV.

OUR NEW FRIEND.


We could not object to the stay of our cousin, and she planned to remain
indefinitely. I always smiled at the relationship, and I don't know
exactly how near it was, but this I believe was it--father's mother and
Mrs. Desmonde's grandmother were cousins; that brought me, you see, into
very near kinship. She laughed at it herself, but, nevertheless, I was
"her dear cousin Emily" always. "Little Lady" was my name for her, but
she forced me call her "Clara." Her mother, it seemed, had married a
gentleman of rank and fortune of French descent, and although she told
me she was the picture of her mother, the graceful ways of which she was
possessed, her natural urbanity and politeness, together with her
fascinating word-emphasis accompanied with so many gestures, were all
decidedly French, "Little lady" just expressed it. She was, when she
came to our home, only thirty-seven years of age, and looked not more
than twenty. Her complexion was that of a perfect blonde; her hair was