"Believe me, dear Lady Vincent, I did not need urging to come to you. I needed only to know that you were in town and alone. As soon as I read the letters I sent for the morning paper to look for the arrivals at the various hotels, to see if I could find your name among them. I could not, and so I was about to lay aside the paper and send for the one of the day before, when my eye happened to light on a paragraph in which I found your name. It was the robbery of your purse at Holyrood Palace. There I learned your address. And I came away here immediately."
Claudia's fingers tightened on the hand of the countess which she still retained in hers.
"How much I thank you, Lady Hurstmonceux, you can never know; because you have never felt what it is to be a stranger in a foreign country, with your fame traduced and not one friend to stand by your side and sustain you," she said.
Again that crimson tide swept over the pale face of Berenice; but this time it was for herself, and she answered:
"Oh, yes, yes! I have known just that. Ten years in a foreign country, forsaken, shunned, traduced, without one friend to speak comfort to an almost breaking heart—It is past. I have overlived it. The God of my fathers has sustained me. Let us speak no more of it." And crimson as she had been for a moment she was as pale as marble now.
Claudia laid her hand caressingly upon the shoulder of Berenice and looked in her face with that mute sympathy which is more effective than eloquent words. Something, indeed, she had heard of this before, but the rumor had left no impression on her mind; though she blamed herself now for the momentary forgetfulness.
"Let us speak of yourself and your plans for the future," said the countess.
"My plans are simple enough. I have written to my father. I shall remain here until his arrival," said Claudia.
There was a pause between them for a few minutes, during which the countess seemed in deep thought, and then this still beautiful woman, smiling, said:
"I am old enough to be your mother, Lady Vincent, and in the absence of your father, I hope you will trust yourself to my guardianship. It is not well, under present circumstances, that you should remain alone at a public hotel. Come with me and be my guest at Cameron Court. It is a pretty place, near Roslyn Castle, and despite all the evil in the hearts of men, I think I can make your visit there pleasant and interesting."