th vivacity and radiant with health, she
sat and wove her toils about him. She had never seemed lovelier in his
eyes, and, as he thought of the unresponsive and quiet woman he had left
behind him, he felt that his home was not on Fifth Avenue, but in the
house where he then sat. Somehow--he could not tell how--she had always
kept him at a distance. He had not dared to be familiar with her. Up to
a certain point he could carry his gallantries, but no further. Then the
drift of conversation would change. Then something called her away. He
grew mad with the desire to hold her hand, to touch her, to unburden his
heart of its passion for her, to breathe his hope of future possession;
but always, when the convenient moment came, he was gently repelled,
tenderly hushed, adroitly diverted. He knew the devil was in her; he
believed that she was fond of him, and thus knowing and believing, he
was at his wit's end to guess why she should be so persistently
perverse. He had drank that day, and was not so easily managed as usual,
and she had a hard task to hold him to his proprieties. There was only
one way to do this, and that was to assume the pathetic.

Then she told him of her lonely day, her lack of employment, her wish
that she could be of some use in the world, and, finally, she wondered
whether Mrs. Belcher would like to have her, Mrs. Dillingham, receive
with her on New Year's Day. If that lady would not consider it an
intrusion, she should be happy to shut her own house, and thus be able
to present all the gentlemen of the city worth knowing, not only to Mrs.
Belcher, but to her husband.

To have Mrs. Dillingham in the house for a whole day, and particularly
to make desirable acquaintances so easily, was a rare privilege. He
would speak to Mrs. Belcher about it, and he was sure there could be but
one answer. To be frank about it, he did not intend there should be but
one answer; but, for form's sake, it would be best to consult her. Mr.
Belcher did not say--what was the truth--that the guilt in his heart
made him more careful to consult Mrs. Belcher in the matter than he
otherwise would have been; but now that his loyalty to her had ceased,
he became more careful to preserve its semblance. There was a tender
quality in Mrs. Dillingham's voice as she parted with him for the
evening, and a half returned, suddenly relinquished response to the
pressure of his hand, which left the impression that she had checked an
eager impul