, and he had no wish to take it back. He
had given her the reviving aspirations of an originally noble nature;
the sun of her had shone upon the barren soil, and the harvest was hers.
He was an unimaginative man, but he was inclined to believe that if
there was a future existence, Magdalena would belong to him then and for
ever, that something even less definable than the soul of each belonged
to the other. For there was nothing to be ashamed of in his love for
Helena. She appealed as powerfully to his mind and heart as to his
passion. But there was something beyond all, and he had no name for
it,--unless it were that principle of absolute good as distinguished
from its grades and variations; and it belonged to the girl whom he
certainly no longer wanted in this life.

He wished that he had suggested to Helena to spend the summer in San
Rafael or Monterey. Menlo Park belonged to Magdalena; he found himself
hating the thought of having a series of very perfect memories
disturbed, even by the most passionately loved of women. And so
Magdalena had her first revenge.

He went reluctantly enough to Fair Oaks in the afternoon. The very
leaves whispered as they drove through the woods. He had protested, but
Helena must see 'Lena at once; she could never be entirely happy until
she had looked into 'Lena's eyes and convinced herself that they were
quite unchanged. And Trennahan must go, too, and have it over.
Trennahan, who only crossed her whims for the pleasure of making up with
her later, admitted that she was right, and went.

Mrs. Yorba was on the verandah receiving Mrs. Geary and Mrs. Brannan.
Magdalena was upstairs in her room. The monotony of those afternoon
receptions had taken its place among the distasteful things of life, and
she was determined not to go down until she was sent for. Each time she
heard wheels she went to the window and looked out. The third time she
saw Trennahan and Helena. The very bones of her skeleton seemed to fall
upon each other; she sank to the ground with less vigour than a
shattered soldier. But in a moment she gave a hard gasp and pressed her
hands to her face. Then she heard Helena's voice,--that sweet husky
voice which was not the least potent of her charms.

"'Lena! 'Lena! Well, I'll go look for her."

Magdalena scrambled to her feet and fled down the hall to her mother's
dressing-room. There, in a cupboard, was always a decanter of sherry;
for Mrs. Yorba, after her neuralgic attac