we have? He must have seen me in
the streets. He saw Minnie."

"Do you think it likely that he would come to this house and slight
you? If he had forgotten you he would not come here."

"Oh yes, he would. He comes to see Minnie. He knows I am here, of
course. He doesn't care one atom whether I make my appearance or not.
He doesn't even give me a thought. It's so long since _that time_ that
he has forgotten even my existence. He has been all over the world
since then, and has had a hundred adventures. I have been living
quietly, cherishing the remembrance of that one thing."

"Ethel, is it not worth trying? Go down and try him."

"I can not bear it. I can not look at him. I lose all self-command
when he is near. I should make a fool of myself. He would look at me
with a smile of pity. Could I endure that? No, Kitty; my weakness must
never be known to him."

"Oh, Ethel, how I wish you could try it!"

"Kitty, just think how utterly I am forgotten. Mark this now. He knows
I was at _your_ house. He must remember your name. He wrote to me
there, and I answered him from there. He sees you now, and your name
must be associated with mine in his memory of me, if he has any. Tell
me now, Kitty, has he ever mentioned me? has he ever asked you about
me? has he ever made the remotest allusion to me?"

Ethel spoke rapidly and impetuously, and as she spoke she raised
herself from the sofa where she was reclining, and turned her large,
earnest eyes full upon her friend with anxious and eager watchfulness.
Mrs. Willoughby looked back at her with a face full of sadness, and
mournfully shook her head.

"You see," said Ethel, as she sank down again--"you see how true my
impression is."

"I must say," said Mrs. Willoughby, "that I thought of this before. I
fully expected that he would make some inquiry after you. I was so
confident in the noble character of the man, both from your story and
the description of others, that I could not believe you were right.
But you are right, my poor Ethel. I wish I could comfort you, but I
can not. Indeed, my dear, not only has he not questioned me about you,
but he evidently avoids me. It is not that he is engrossed with
Minnie, for he is not so; but he certainly has some reason of his own
for avoiding me. Whenever he speaks to me there is an evident effort
on his part, and though perfectly courteous, his manner leaves a
certain disagreeable impression. Yes, he certainly has some reason for
avo