e far beyond
what Olive could have imagined as the very worst possible. What would be
her state now, poor forsaken friend, if some of them had been borne to
her in the voices of the air? Verena had been affected by her
companion's speech (his manner had changed so; it seemed to express
something quite different) in a way that pushed her to throw up the
discussion and determine that as soon as they should get out of the park
she would go off by herself; but she still had her wits about her
sufficiently to think it important she should give no sign of
discomposure, of confessing that she was driven from the field. She
appeared to herself to notice and reply to his extraordinary
observations enough, without taking them up too much, when she said,
tossing the words over her shoulder at Ransom, while she moved quickly:
"I presume, from what you say, that you don't think I have much
ability."

He hesitated before answering, while his long legs easily kept pace with
her rapid step--her charming, touching, hurrying step, which expressed
all the trepidation she was anxious to conceal. "Immense ability, but
not in the line in which you most try to have it. In a very different
line, Miss Tarrant! Ability is no word for it; it's genius!"

She felt his eyes on her face--ever so close and fixed there--after he
had chosen to reply to her question that way. She was beginning to
blush; if he had kept them longer, and on the part of any one else, she
would have called such a stare impertinent. Verena had been commended of
old by Olive for her serenity "while exposed to the gaze of hundreds";
but a change had taken place, and she was now unable to endure the
contemplation of an individual. She wished to detach him, to lead him
off again into the general; and for this purpose, at the end of a
moment, she made another inquiry: "I am to understand, then, as your
last word that you regard us as quite inferior?"

"For public, civic uses, absolutely--perfectly weak and second-rate. I
know nothing more indicative of the muddled sentiment of the time than
that any number of men should be found to pretend that they regard you
in any other light. But privately, personally, it's another affair. In
the realm of family life and the domestic affections----"

At this Verena broke in, with a nervous laugh, "Don't say that; it's
only a phrase!"

"Well, it's a better one than any of yours," said Basil Ransom, turning
with her out of one of the smalle