It often happens that a proud, austere person, so grounded in opinions and prejudices as to be considered above and beyond ordinary influences, will all at once, give heart and reason up to passionate or capricious fondness for some individual often a very child and yield everything to persuasion when reason is utterly rejected.

Indeed, few people like to be convinced; but the strongest mind ever bestowed on man or woman finds something gratifying to self-love in the persuasive enticements of affection.

This singular moral phenomenon astonished the neighbors and household of Lady Carset when she gave herself up, with the abandon of a child, to the caressing young creature, who had, it seemed, appeared in her home to win her back from the very brink of the grave, and make the sunset of her long life brighter with love than the dawn had been.

There was nothing in the young girl which did not seem beautiful to the old relative. Her originality, which made the well-trained servants stare, seemed the perfection of piquant grace to one whose fastidious tastes had been an example to the whole neighborhood. In her estimation Lady Clara could do nothing which was not in itself loveliest and best. The old lady had been so long without an object of affection, that her love of this girl became almost a monomania.

“I have an atonement to make,” she would say to herself in excuse for this extraordinary and most pleasant subjugation; “for years and years I have driven this young creature from me because of what, I am almost convinced, were unfounded suspicions against her father and that woman. It is but just that I should accept my grandchild with generous confidence; and she deserves it she deserves it.”

After reasoning in this fashion awhile the repentant old lady would rack her brain for some new device by which this bright creature, who had come like a sunbeam into her house, might be persuaded never to leave it again. It was not altogether the selfishness of affection that actuated this honorable woman. It was hard to believe that a Carset could have acted unjustly, or even be mistaken; but, once convinced of that, her very pride insisted on a generous atonement. Never in her life had she been so humiliated as when the sight of those diamonds convinced her of the cruel charge which she had maintained for years against a person innocent of the offence imputed to her. She remembered, with compunction, how much harm she had done this woman, whose greatest fault now seemed to be that Lord Hope had married her.

Her own example had sufficed to exclude Lady Hope from the society to which her husband’s rank entitled her, and her open expressions of dislike had cast a ban upon the stepmother, which had, to an extent, reacted on her own grandchild.

These thoughts troubled the proud old peeress a long time before she gave them expression; but, one day, Clara sat by her, looking a little sad, for, now that the excitement of her first coming was over, she began to think of Hepworth Closs to wonder where he was, and yearn for some news of him to a degree that clouded her whole bright being like a feeling of homesickness.

“Poor child!” thought the old lady, while her soft, brown eyes dwelt upon that downcast face, as it bent over a piece of embroidery in which a cactus-flower formed the chief central glory; “how weary and troubled she looks! No wonder, poor thing! half her time is spent here with a stupid old woman, shut up so long from the world that she is but dull company for any one. I wonder if the thing which is upon my mind would really make her happy?”

“Clara.”

The girl started. She had been so lost in thought that those bright eyes had been watching her some minutes, while she unconsciously pursued her work, and indulged in a reverie which was shadowed upon her features.

“Clara, you have not told me much about your stepmother.”

“But I think of her; I was thinking of her then. Indeed, indeed, grandmamma, I always must love mamma Rachael, for she has been everything that is good and kind to me I only wish you could understand how kind. If I know anything it is because she taught me.”

“Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate that cruel old Lady Carset,” said the countess, a little suspiciously.

“No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to make me dislike you; but I did it was terribly wicked; but how could I help it, loving her so, and knowing that it was you that stood in the way of all she most desired in life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen you, and I loved her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and put down by people who were not fit to buckle her shoes, all because you would not like her.”

“And you will always love her better than the cruel old lady?”

“Cruel! How can you? There never was a sweeter, kinder, or more lovely old darling in the world than you are! but then she is good, too, and so unhappy at times, it almost breaks my heart to look in her face.”

“And you think I have made her so?”

“I think you might make her very happy, if you only would, grandmamma.”

“Would that make you happy, little one?”

The old lady reached out her little, withered hand, and patted Clara’s fingers, as they paused in her work, while she spoke. The girl’s face brightened. She seized the little hand between her rosy palms, and pressed it to her lips.

“Oh, grandmamma! can you mean it?”

“I always mean to be just, Clara.”

“Then you will be very, very kind to her?”

“Does your father love this woman?”

“Love her? Oh, yes! but this thing has come a little between them. She has grown shy of going out, while he must be in the world; and all her life seems to vanish when he is away. Sometimes it makes my heart ache to think how much she loves him.”

“But he loves you?”

“Almost as much as mamma Rachael does. He was never cross to me but once.”

“And then?”

Clara turned pale, and took up her needle.

“I would rather not talk about that just now. You might be more angry than my father was.”

“It would be very difficult for me to get angry with you, little one.”

“But you would, if I were to be very obstinate, and insist on having my own way about about something that that ”

The old lady’s face grew very serious. She understood, these signs, and they troubled her; but she was feeble, and shrank from any knowledge that would bring excitement with it.

“Some day we will talk of all that,” she said, with a little weary closing of the eyes.

Clara drew a deep breath. See had been on the verge of making a confidante of the old lady, and felt a sense of relief when the subject was thus evaded.

The countess opened her eyes again.

“Clara,” she said, “bring my writing-table here. We will not trouble ourselves to ring for Judson.”

Clara dropped her embroidery, and brought the sofa-table, with all its exquisite appointments for writing. The old lady sat upright on her couch, took the pen, and began to write on the creamy note-paper her grandchild had placed before her. Clara watched that slender hand as it glided across the paper, leaving delicate, upright letters perfect as an engraving, as it moved. When the paper was covered, she folded the missive with dainty precision, selected an envelope, on which her coronet was entangled in a monogram, and was about to seal it with a ring, which she took from her finger; but recollecting herself, she drew the letter out, and handed it to Clara, with a smile that kindled her whole face.

Clara read the letter, threw her arms around the old lady, and covered her faces with kisses.

“Oh, grandmamma, you are too good! Do you do you really mean it? Ah, this is happiness!”

“You shall help me make out the invitations. There was a time when Houghton had no empty chambers. It will go hard, my dear, if we cannot find entertainment for your father and the lady he has married. On that day, Clara, I will present you to the world as my grandchild and heiress.”

“Not yet! oh, not yet! Wait till you know more of me.”

“Hush! hush! This is not my only object. If I have wronged your stepmother, or neglected your father, the whole country shall see that a Carset knows how to make reparation. Lady Hope, too, shall be presented to my friends as an honored guest. This entertainment will be my last, but they shall find that the old countess knows how to receive her guests.”

“Grandmother, you are an an . You are just the sweetest old lady that ever drew breath! If you were to live a thousand years, I should love you better and better every day! To see you and Lady Hope together will be splendid! And they are to stay at Houghton a month. By that time you will love each other dearly.”

Clara took up her work again, but the needle flashed like a thread of lightning in her unsteady fingers. She could not work after this glorious news.

The old lady smiled blandly, and sank down among her cushions, exhausted.

“Go out and take a walk in the park,” she said, observing that Clara was fluttering over her embroidery like a bird in its cage. “It will do you good, and I will try to sleep a little.”