me!--to make up for the defects. We'll go back to our
books--oh! _you_ have never left them; but I, poor sinner that I am--!
Give me my Dante, and let me feel him between my hands! Where is Virgil?

Heu! fuge crudeles terras, fuge litus avarum.

Is it quoted right? Is it apropos?'

'Savonarola's word of fate.'

'Then mine too! How have you been so patient with me? A London
season--and I still have Homer to read! Still have Sophocles for an
unknown land! My father, I have gone far, very far, astray, and you did
not so much as rebuke me.'

'My dearest, it is infinitely better to hear you rebuke yourself. Nor
that, either. A chapter in your education was lacking; now you can go
on smoothly.'

'Now read the poem over again, father. I can hear it now.'

Paula came to the house next morning. She and Annabel had seen very
little of each other throughout the season, but, on the last two or
three occasions of their meeting, Paula had betrayed a sort of timid
desire to speak with more intimacy than was her wont. Annabel was not
eager in response, hut, in spite of that letter which you remember, she
had always judged her cousin with much tolerance, and a suspicion that
Paula Dalmaine was not quite so happy a person as Paula Tyrrell had
been, inclined her to speak with gentleness. They were alone together
this morning in the drawing-room.

'So you're going to the Pilkingtons',' Paula said, when she had
fluttered about a good deal.

'No. We have changed our minds. We go back to Eastbourne.'

'Ah! How's that, Bell?'

'We are a little tired of society, and father needs quietness again.
Where do you go?'

'To Scotland, with the Scalpers. Lord Glenroich is going down with us.
He's promised to teach me to shoot.'

Paula spoke of these arrangements with less gusto than might have been
expected of her. She was fidgety and absent. Suddenly she asked:

'What has become of Mr. Egremont, Bell?'

'He has either gone, or is just going, to America, to live there, I
believe, for some time.'

'Oh, indeed!--_with_ anybody, I wonder?'

'He has not told me anything of his affairs, Paula.'

'Then you have seen him?'

'No, I haven't.'

'Don't be cross with me, Bell. I don't mean anything. I only wanted to
know something true about him; I can hear lies enough whenever I
choose.'

It was pathetic enough, because, for once, evidently sincere. Annabel
smiled and made no reply. Then, with abrupt change of subject, Paula
remarke