a wild-cat to that poor child because you were fairly daft with
jealousy, and driving her away--oh, yes you did, Mercedes, it don't do
any good to deny it now--if in addition to all that they find out that
you've been trying to save your face by blackening her character? Why,
they'll think you're the meanest skunk that ever walked on two legs; and
they'll be about right. Whereas, Mercedes," Mrs. Talcott had been
standing square and erect for some time in front of her companion, and
now, as her tone became more argumentative and persuasive, she allowed
her tired old body to sag and rest heavily on one hip--"whereas if you
write a nice, kind, loving, self-reproachful letter, all full of your
dreadful anxiety and affection--why, if Karen ever sees it it'll soften
her towards you perhaps; and it'll make all your friends sorry for you,
too, and inclined to hush things up if Mr. Drew spreads the story
around--won't it, Mercedes?"--Madame von Marwitz had turned in her chair
and was staring before her with a deeply thoughtful eye.--"Why, it's as
plain as can be, Mercedes, that that's your line."

"True," Madame von Marwitz now said. "True." Her voice was deep and
almost solemn. "You are right. Yes; you are right, Tallie."

She leaned her forehead on her hand, shading her eyes as she pondered.
"A letter of noble admission; of sorrow; of love. Ah! you recall me to
my better self. It will touch her, Tallie; it is bound to touch her, is
it not? She cannot feel the bitterness she now feels if she reads such a
letter; is not that so, Tallie?"

"That's so. You've got it," said Mrs. Talcott.

Madame von Marwitz, however, continued to lean on her desk and to shade
her eyes, and some moments of silence passed thus. Then, as she leaned,
the abjectness of her own position seemed suddenly borne in upon her.
She pushed back her chair and clutching the edge of the desk with both
hands, gave a low cry.

Mrs. Talcott looked at her, inquiring, but unmoved.

"Oh--it is easy for you--standing there--watching my humiliation--making
your terms!" Madame von Marwitz exclaimed in bitter, trembling tones.
"You see me in the dust,--and it is you who strike me there. I am to
drag myself--with precautions--apologies--to that child's feet--that
waif!--that bastard!--that thing I picked up and made! I am to be glad
because I may hope to move her to mercy! Ah!--it is too much! too much!
I curse the day that I saw her! I had a presentiment--I remember it