oom, and went to her own apartment.

Madame Staubach, when she was alone, sobbed and cried, and kneeled
and prayed, and walked the length and breadth of the room in an agony
of despair and doubt. She also was in want of a counsellor to whom
she could go in her present misery. And there was no such counsellor.
It seemed to her to be impossible that she should confide everything
to Peter Steinmarc. And yet it was no more than honest that Peter
should be told before he was allowed to continue his courtship. Even
now, though she had seen Linda's misery, Madame Staubach thought that
the marriage which she had been so anxious to arrange would be the
safest way out of all their troubles,--if only Peter might be brought
to consent to it after hearing all the truth. And she fancied that
those traits in Peter's character, appearance, and demeanour which
were so revolting to Linda would be additional means of bringing
Linda back from the slough of despond,--if only such a marriage might
still be possible. But the crushing must be more severe than had
hitherto been intended, the weights imposed must be heavier, and the
human atoms smaller and more like the dust.

While she was meditating on this there came the usual knock at
the door, and Steinmarc entered the room. She greeted him, as was
her wont, with but a word or two, and he sat down and lighted his
pipe. An observant man might have known, even from the sound of her
breathing, that something had stirred Madame Staubach more than
usual. But Peter was not an observant man, and, having something
on his own mind, paid but little attention to the widow. At last,
having finished his first pipe and filled it again, he spoke. "Madame
Staubach," he said, "I have been thinking about Linda Tressel."

"And so have I, Peter," said Madame Staubach.

"Yes,--of course; that is natural. She is your niece, and you and she
have interests in common."

"What interests, Peter? Ah me! I wish we had."

"Of course it is all right that you should, and I say nothing about
that. But, Madame Staubach, I do not like to be made a fool of;--I
particularly object to be made a fool of. If Linda is to become my
wife, there is not any time to be lost." Then Peter recommenced the
smoking of his new-lighted pipe with great vigour.

Madame Staubach at this moment became a martyr to great scruples. Was
it her duty, or was it not her duty, to tell Peter at this moment all
that she had heard to-day? She rather