, and the ducts to her eyes were painfully full. Ashamed
as she was to show emotion, at last she burst out:--

"This is all I get for loving you so well! Ah! when I married you
your life was dearer to me than my own. I would have died for
you--how truly I can say that I would have died for you! And now
you sneer at my foolishness in marrying you. O! is it kind to me to
throw my mistake in my face? Whatever opinion you may have of my
wisdom, you should not tell me of it so mercilessly, now that I am
in your power."

"I can't help how things fall out," said Troy; "upon my heart, women
will be the death of me!"

"Well you shouldn't keep people's hair. You'll burn it, won't you,
Frank?"

Frank went on as if he had not heard her. "There are considerations
even before my consideration for you; reparations to be made--ties
you know nothing of. If you repent of marrying, so do I."

Trembling now, she put her hand upon his arm, saying, in mingled
tones of wretchedness and coaxing, "I only repent it if you don't
love me better than any woman in the world! I don't otherwise,
Frank. You don't repent because you already love somebody better
than you love me, do you?"

"I don't know. Why do you say that?"

"You won't burn that curl. You like the woman who owns that pretty
hair--yes; it is pretty--more beautiful than my miserable black mane!
Well, it is no use; I can't help being ugly. You must like her best,
if you will!"

"Until to-day, when I took it from a drawer, I have never looked upon
that bit of hair for several months--that I am ready to swear."

"But just now you said 'ties'; and then--that woman we met?"

"'Twas the meeting with her that reminded me of the hair."

"Is it hers, then?"

"Yes. There, now that you have wormed it out of me, I hope you are
content."

"And what are the ties?"

"Oh! that meant nothing--a mere jest."

"A mere jest!" she said, in mournful astonishment. "Can you jest
when I am so wretchedly in earnest? Tell me the truth, Frank. I
am not a fool, you know, although I am a woman, and have my woman's
moments. Come! treat me fairly," she said, looking honestly and
fearlessly into his face. "I don't want much; bare justice--that's
all! Ah! once I felt I could be content with nothing less than the
highest homage from the husband I should choose. Now, anything
short of cruelty will content me. Yes! the independent and spirited
Bathsheba is come to this!"

"For He