her
husband and between Dobbs Broughton and Mrs. Van Siever. And he spoke
his opinion very fully about Miss Demolines. "And yet you liked her
once," said Mrs. Broughton. "I never liked her," said Dalrymple with
energy. "But all that matters nothing now. Of course you can send for
her if you please; but I do not think her trustworthy, and I will
not willingly come in contact with her." Then Mrs. Broughton gave him
to understand that of course she must give way, but that in giving
way she felt herself to be submitting to that ill-usage which is
the ordinary lot of women, and to which she, among women, had been
specially subjected. She did not exactly say as much, fearing that if
she did he would leave her altogether; but that was the gist of her
plaints and wails, and final acquiescence.

"And are you going?" she said, catching hold of his arm.

"I will employ myself altogether and only about your affairs, till I
see you again."

"But I want you to stay."

"It would be madness. Look here;--lie down till Clara comes or till I
return. Do not go beyond this room and your own. If she cannot come
this evening I will return. Good-by now. I will see the servants as I
go out, and tell them what ought to be told."

"Oh, Conway," she said, clutching hold of him again. "I know that you
despise me."

"I do not despise you, and I will be as good a friend to you as I
can. God bless you." Then he went, and as he descended the stairs he
could not refrain from telling himself that he did in truth despise
her.

His first object was to find Musselboro, and to dismiss that
gentleman from the house. For though he himself did not attribute
to Mrs. Van Siever's favourite any of those terrible crimes and
potentialities for crime, with which Mrs. Dobbs Broughton had invested
him, still he thought it reasonable that the poor woman upstairs
should not be subjected to the necessity of either seeing him or
hearing him. But Musselboro had gone, and Dalrymple could not learn
from the head woman-servant whom he saw, whether before going he had
told to any one in the house the tale of the catastrophe which had
happened in the City. Servants are wonderful actors, looking often as
though they knew nothing when they know everything,--as though they
understood nothing, when they understand all. Dalrymple made known
all that was necessary, and the discreet upper servant listened to
the tale with the proper amount of awe and horror and commiseration