carnage. The
death-stab should be given clean, with scientific skill and swiftness,
and the blow once given, she would retire to her own room and let her
victim find what solace she could in solitude. Norma was not wantonly
cruel; she could impale a foe, but she had no desire to witness his
contortions. After a death-scene she shrank from the grewsomeness of
burial; she preferred a decent drop-curtain and the grateful darkness.

After some idle conversation, she deftly turned the talk upon New York,
and the life there, and rallied all her powers to be picturesque and
entertaining. She held her listener entranced with rapid, clever
sketches of society and the men and women who composed it, drawing
vivid pictures of its usages, beliefs, and modes of thought and
expression. Gradually she glided into personalities, giving some of
her individual experiences, and sketching in an acquaintance or two,
with brilliant, caustic touches. Soon Thorne's name appeared, and she
noticed that the listener's interest deepened. She spoke of him in
warm terms of admiration--dwelt on his intellect, his talents and the
bright promise of his manhood; and then, observing that the brush had
ceased its regular passes over the bright brown hair, and that the gray
eyes were on the fire, without pause or warning she spoke of his
hurried courtship and sudden marriage. She winced involuntarily as she
saw the cold, gray pallor creep slowly over the girl's face, and noted
the sudden tremor that passed through her limbs; but she steeled
herself against compassion, and proceeded with her brushing and her
narrative like one devoid of sight and understanding.

"I can not expect you, who know Nesbit so slightly, to be much
interested in all this," she said, watching Pocahontas through her
lashes; "I fear I only bore you with my story, but my mind has been so
exercised over the poor fellow's troubles again lately, that I must
unburden it to some one. You have no personal interest in the matter,
therefore you will forgive my trespassing on your courtesy--especially
when I tell you that I've no one at home to talk to. Nesbit wishes
particularly that his story shouldn't get abroad here, and if I should
revive it in Blanche's mind, she might mention it to others. Mamma
would not; but unfortunately mamma and I rarely look at a thing from
the same standpoint. It's been a relief to speak to you--far greater
than speaking to Blanche. Blanche is so exci