"Oh! let me alone—please let me alone!"
Judson retreated backward to her place in the opposite corner, while the young man motioned her to remain quiet, and let the pretty creature sob out her grief unmolested.
At last Clara had wept her sudden burst of sorrow away, and became conscious of her own strange conduct. She pushed back her hat, drew the soft gauze streamers across her eyes, and burst into a sobbing laugh, exquisitely childlike, but which Judson could not in the least understand.
"I'm afraid I am getting homesick," she said. "I never was so far from Oakhurst before, and, until this morning, you know, I had never seen either of your faces, but all that need not make such an absurd baby of me."
Mrs. Judson unfolded a fine pocket handkerchief and held it toward the girl, with the most anxious look possible to imagine.
"Wipe your eyes, dear young lady, wipe your eyes. We are coming to Houghton, and I would not have you seen with that face for the world."
"Yes," said the young man, looking out, "yonder is Houghton Castle."
CHAPTER XXII.
THE OLD COUNTESS.
"I will see her now, Judson." The old lady of Houghton came out from her dressing-room as she said this.