crystal _carafe_, standing on the centre-table,
Mrs. Gerome silently offered it. As the governess drained and returned
the goblet, a drop of blood that stained the rim fell on the hand of
the mistress of the house.

Miss Dexter attempted to remove it with the end of her plaid shawl,
but her companion drew back, and taking a dainty, perfumed
handkerchief from her pocket, shook out its folds and said,
hastily,--

"It is of no consequence. I see your handkerchief is already
saturated; will you accept mine?"

Without waiting for a reply, she laid it on the lap of the visitor,
and left the room.

Soon after, a servant brought in a basin of water and towels, which
she placed on the table, and then, without question or comment,
withdrew.

Some time elapsed before Mrs. Gerome re-entered the parlor, bearing a
glass of wine in her hand. Miss Dexter had bathed her face, and,
looking up, she saw that the gray hair had been carefully coiled and
fastened, and the flowing merino belted at the waist; but the brow
wore its heavy cloud, and the arch of the lip had not unbent.

"I hope you are better. Permit me to insist upon your taking this
wine."

She proffered it, but the governess shook her head, and tears ran down
her cheeks, as she said,--

"Thank you,--but I do not require it; indeed I could not swallow it."

The hostess bowed, and, placing the glass within her reach, walked to
the window which looked out on the marble mausoleum, and stood leaning
against the cedarn facing.

Five, ten minutes passed, and the silence was only broken by the
ticking of the bronze clock on the mantelpiece.

"Evelyn."

The voice was so sweet, so thrilling, so mournfully pleading, that it
might have wooed even stone to pity; but Mrs. Gerome merely glanced
over her shoulder, and said, frigidly,--

"Can I in any way contribute to Miss Dexter's comfort? The servants
tell me there is no conveyance waiting for you; but, since you seem
too feeble to walk away, my carriage is at your service whenever you
wish to return. Shall I order it?"

"No, I will not trouble you. I can walk; and, after a little while, I
will go away forever. Evelyn, do you think me utterly unprincipled?"

A moment passed before she was answered.

"While you are in my house, courtesy forbids the expression of my
opinion of your character."

"Oh, Evelyn, my darling! God knows I have not merited this harshness,
this cruelty from your dear hands. Eight tedious, misera