ing as an
inexpressible bore, and had returned with delight to the quiet life at
Carvel Place, glad that her father's position and tastes did not lead
him to keep open house, as some of his neighbors did, and that she was
allowed to read and to be quiet, and to do everything she liked.

Then her real life had begun, and her character, untouched and unchanged
by what she had seen in a London season, had suddenly come under the
influence of another character, strong, dominant, and apparently good,
but in the eyes of the young girl eminently mysterious. She had known
Paul Patoff as one knows people in the midst of a small family party in
a country house, and he had at first repelled her, as he repelled many
people; but soon, very soon, she thought, the feeling of repulsion had
grown to be a curiosity to know the man's history, the secret of his
coldness towards his mother, and of his hard and cynical expression.
From such interest as she felt for him, it was but a step to love, and
the step was soon taken. The nearer she came to him, the more she felt
the power of his fascination, and the more she wondered that every one
else did not see it as she saw it, and yield to it as she yielded to it.
Then had come the afternoon in the park; the joy of those few hours; the
scene at dinner on the same evening; the revelation she had extracted
from Cutter; the discovery that her aunt was sane; her interview with
Paul, and his sudden departure, wounded by her speech;--all these events
following on each other in less than four-and-twenty hours. From that
day she knew that she had changed much, and she realized the strength of
her love for Paul. And on that day, also, had begun her annoyances with
Madame Patoff, her constant defense of the son against the accusations
of the mother, and her own fears lest she should be playing a double
part. She had suffered much by the separation from Paul; she suffered
more whenever her aunt fell into her passionate way of abusing him, and
she felt that her faculties were overstrained when she was in the
society of her strange relative. But Madame Patoff loved her, and her
affection was so evident to Hermione that she found it hard to cut her
speeches short with a sharp word, however painful it might be to her to
listen to them. Of late she had adopted the practice of treating her as
she did on the first night, assuming that her hatred was very nearly an
insanity in itself, and managing her almost like