aint inquisitive smile, a slight movement that she could not
restrain, but which she instantly felt to be the most shameful wrong
to herself. It was answered--if at all--by that mockery of a laugh
which entered her ears like the point of a sword and reached her heart
through them.

Blindly, breathing in short gasps, she reached her carriage; and with
a great effort gave the order "home." She was distracted. Her anger
burned inward, set her blood on fire, and shook her like an
earthquake. Her lover and her friend, both false! All her confidences
betrayed! Her poor heart laid bare for their scorn and mirth! It was
impossible to endure so abominable a wrong. She was struck dumb with
it. She knew no words to express her distress. She could not rest a
moment, sleep fled from her; her inner self was in a chaos of
indescribable suffering.

In the morning she was physically ill; a great nausea, a burning
fever, and a pain in every limb subdued her. All night her soul had
seemed a substance made of fire; in the morning, it was dulled and
numbed by her bodily agony; for pain is indeed perfect misery, and the
very worst of mortal evils. Mrs. Filmer and a doctor were sent for;
and Rose lay nearly two weeks, stunned and suffering from the
soul-blow she had received. Much of the time she was hardly conscious
of the present, moaning and fretful when awake, and when asleep lost
in the unutterable desolation of dreams, full of portentous shapes and
awful suggestions. Her life had lost its balance, and she had lost
her foothold on it in consequence.

"Am I very ill, mamma?" she asked mournfully, one midnight.

"Not very, my dear Rose. You are beginning to get better. The doctor
thinks you have had a severe mental shock. What was it? Antony?"

"No; not Antony. Antony is not brutal. Am I strong enough to talk,
mamma?"

"It may do you good to talk--to tell me what made you ill."

"I met Ida Stirling and Mr. Duval walking together. They laughed in my
face as they passed me. And I had told Ida everything--everything!"

"Do you mean about Antony?"

"Yes; and about that dreadful day when you all thought I intended to
go to Cuba."

"Rose, I never have understood that affair."

"And yet, without understanding it, every one, even you, thought the
very worst of me."

"Then why did you not explain?"

"I don't know. I was too angry. I felt wicked enough to let you all
think whatever you chose. And then baby was dead, and Antony treat