ected chiefly against herself--this self for which she now
nursed a fanatic hatred, since it had failed her in her need. But,
little by little, he, too, was drawn within the circle of her
bitterness; indeed, it sometimes seemed as if his very kindness incited
her, by laying her under an obligation to him, which it was in her
nature to resent: at others, again, as if she merely wished to try him,
to see how far she might go.

"Do I really deserve that thrust?" he once could not help asking. He
smiled, as he spoke, to take the edge off his words.

Louise threw a penitent glance at him, and, for all answer, held out
her hand.

But, the very next day, after a similar incident, she crossed the room
to him, with the swiftness of movement that was always disturbing in
her, contrasting as it did with her customary indolence. "Forgive me. I
ought not to. And you are the only friend I have. But there's so much I
must say to some one. If I don't say it, I shall go mad."

"Why, of course. That's what I'm here for," said Maurice.

And so it went on--a strange state of things, in which he never called
her by her name, and seldom touched her hand. He had himself well under
control--except for the moment immediately before he saw her, and the
moment after. He could not yet meet her, after the briefest absence,
unmoved.

For a week on end that penetrating rawness had been abroad, which
precedes and accompanies a thaw; and one day, early in February, when,
after the unequalled severity of the winter, the air seemed of an
incredible mildness, the thaw was there in earnest; on the ice of more
than three months' standing, pools of water had formed overnight. By
the JOHANNATEICH, Maurice and Madeleine stood looking dubiously across
the bank of snow, which, here and there, had already collapsed, leaving
miniature crater-rings, flecked with moisture. Several people who could
not tear themselves away, were still flying about the ice, dexterously
avoiding the watery places; and Dove and pretty Susie Fay called out to
them that it was better than it looked. But Maurice was fastidious and
Madeleine indifferent; she was really rather tired of skating, she
admitted, as they walked home, and was ashamed to think of the time she
had wasted on it. As, however, this particular afternoon was already
broken into, she would have been glad to go for a walk; but Maurice did
not take up her suggestion, and parted from her at her house-door.

"Spring