What did the Spences think of her? How did they speak of her
to their friends? What impression did she make upon Mallard? These
memories were torture; they explained the mixture of humility and
assumption which on certain days made her company disagreeable to
Eleanor, and the dark moods which now and then held her in sullen
solitude.

But the word "superstition" was no guarantee against the haunting of
superstition itself. Miriam was far from being one of the emancipated,
however arrogantly she would have met a doubt of her freedom. Just as
little as ever had she genuine convictions, capable of supporting her
in hours of weakness and unsatisfied longing. Several times of late she
had all but brought herself to speak plainly with Eleanor, and ask on
what foundation was built that calm life which seemed independent of
supernatural belief; but shame always restrained her. It would be the
same as confessing that she had not really the liberty to which she
pretended. There was, however, an indirect way of approaching the
subject, by which her dignity would possibly be rather enhanced than
suffer; and this she at length took. After her return from the Palazzo
Borghese, she was beset with a confusion of anxious thoughts. The need
of confidential or semi-confidential speech with one of her own sex
became irresistible. In the evening she found an opportunity of
speaking privately with Eleanor.

"I want to ask your opinion about something. It's a question I am
obliged to decide now I am going back to England."

Eleanor smiled inquiringly. She was not a little curious to have a
glimpse into her cousin's mind just now.

"You remember," pursued Miriam, leaning forward on a table by which she
sat, and playing with a twisted piece of paper, "that I once had the
silly desire to build a chapel at Bartles."

She reddened in hearing the words upon her own lips--so strange a sound
they had after all this time.

"I remember you talked of doing so," replied Eleanor, with her usual
quiet good-nature.

"Unfortunately, I did more than talk about it. I made a distinct
promise to certain people gravely interested. The promise was
registered in a Bartles newspaper. And you know that I went so far as
to have my plans made."

"Do you feel bound by this promise, my dear?"

Miriam propped her cheek on one hand, and with the other kept rolling
the piece of paper on the table.

"Yes," she answered, "I can't help thinking that I ought to ke