"Help you in what?" she asked, proudly.
The countess flung aside the laces and ribbons that seemed to stifle her.
"Help me over my son!" she cried; "be generous to me. Many people in my place would look on you as an enemy—I do not. If you have ever really loved my son you cannot be an enemy of mine. I appeal to the higher and nobler part of you. Some people would be afraid that you should triumph over them—I am not. I hold you for a generous foe."
"What appeal do you wish to make to me?" asked Leone, quite ignoring all the compliments which the countess paid her.
Lady Lanswell looked as she felt—embarrassed; it was one thing to carry this interview through in fancy, but still another when face to face with the foe, and that foe a beautiful, haughty woman, with right on her side. My lady was less at ease than she had ever been in her life before, her eyes fell, her lips trembled, her gemmed fingers played nervously with her laces and ribbons.
"That I should come to you at all, Leone, proves that I think you a noble woman," she said; "my trouble is great—the happiness of many lives lies in your hands."
"I do not understand how," said Leone.
"I will tell you," continued the countess. "You are going to Berlin, are you not?"
She saw a quiver of pain pass over the beautiful face as she asked the question.
"Yes," replied Leone; "I have an engagement there."