"Mademoiselle, I—cannot. There is nothing more."
"Go on, monsieur," she repeated, quietly.
Claude passed his hand over his brow. Then he lifted the letter again and continued: "'—and begs further to add that when monsieur shall desire to present Madame la Comtesse his wife to their Majesties at Versailles, his return to his present abode will be most pleasing to
"'LOUIS R.'
At the close of the last line Claude looked up, apprehensively. Deborah was very white, and there was an unusual brightness in her eyes. He could not catch her glance. Her head drooped, and presently she covered her face with her hands. He sprang up, impetuously.
"Deborah—Deborah—forget that last! I—didn't mean to read it."
He spoke rather incoherently. Perhaps the girl did not even understand him. At any rate, after a moment, she lifted her head with a dignity that Claude did not know. "I thank you, M. de Mailly, for telling me the story as I asked." There was a little, wretched pause, and then she added, more faintly: "See, the storm is nearly over. I must go back now—to the doctor's house."
CHAPTER VII
The Pearls
Another week went by, and Deborah, quite recovered from her slight illness, bade Dr. Carroll and his sisters good-bye and returned, on a Sunday afternoon, to the Trevor place. It was then about the 1st of August, and certain rumors relative to the reception of the returning commissioners from Lancaster, rumors dearly exciting to the feminine heart, began to radiate from the gubernatorial palace and to spread throughout the country-side. For once in its long existence rumor spoke truth. Upon the 6th day of August were issued elaborate cards ("tickets," they called them then) of invitation for a Governor's ball to be given upon the evening of the 21st to the returning officials. With the delivery of these cards a thrill of excitement and anticipation pulsated through all Anne Arundel County, even running a little way over its irregular borders; and innumerable were the earnest conversations through town and country houses as to costumes suitable for such an occasion. Great hopes, that sank often to despair, were entertained of the arrival of the Baltimore, with her usual cargo of vain and delightful things. It was calculated with the nicest discrimination that she might reach port, provided the winds were amiable to an impossible degree, as early as the 15th. Then the weather of the West Atlantic was watched with supreme interest. It certainly was all that could be desired. Nevertheless, the 15th came and went without the Baltimore, and there was wailing on both sides of the Severn. In time the interest in the ship's arrival came to surpass its object; though, indeed, Betty Pritchard voiced many another's feeling when she one day cried out, wofully: