Chancellor
no faith in her girlhood? didn't she know what a card that would be?
This was the last inquiry Olive allowed him the opportunity of making.
She remarked to him that they might talk for ever without coming to an
agreement--their points of view were so far apart. Besides, it was a
woman's question; what they wanted was for women, and it should be by
women. It had happened to the young Matthias more than once to be shown
the way to the door, but the path of retreat had never yet seemed to him
so unpleasant. He was naturally amiable, but it had not hitherto
befallen him to be made to feel that he was not--and could not be--a
factor in contemporary history: here was a rapacious woman who proposed
to keep that favourable setting for herself. He let her know that she
was right-down selfish, and that if she chose to sacrifice a beautiful
nature to her antediluvian theories and love of power, a vigilant daily
press--whose business it was to expose wrong-doing--would demand an
account from her. She replied that, if the newspapers chose to insult
her, that was their own affair; one outrage the more to the sex in her
person was of little account. And after he had left her she seemed to
see the glow of dawning success; the battle had begun, and something of
the ecstasy of the martyr.

XVIII

Verena told her, a week after this, that Mr. Pardon wanted so much she
should say she would marry him; and she added, with evident pleasure at
being able to give her so agreeable a piece of news, that she had
declined to say anything of the sort. She thought that now, at least,
Olive must believe in her; for the proposal was more attractive than
Miss Chancellor seemed able to understand. "He does place things in a
very seductive light," Verena said; "he says that if I become his wife I
shall be carried straight along by a force of excitement of which at
present I have no idea. I shall wake up famous, if I marry him; I have
only got to give out my feelings, and he will take care of the rest. He
says every hour of my youth is precious to me, and that we should have a
lovely time travelling round the country. I think you ought to allow
that all that is rather dazzling--for I am not naturally concentrated,
like you!"

"He promises you success. What do you call success?" Olive inquired,
looking at her friend with a kind of salutary coldness--a suspension of
sympathy--with which Verena was now familiar (though she liked it no
be