is purpose?"

"I think so," replied the other, with a little hesitation. "You know
that there was no kind of reserve about it when you first came to
Naples."

"No, of course not. Do you feel as sure of his opinion as of Edward's?"

"I can't say that I do. There's no foreseeing his judgment about
anything. As you are such good friends, why not consult him?"

"Our friendship doesn't go so far as that."

"And after all, I don't see what use other people's opinions can be to
you," said Eleanor, waiving the point. "It's a matter of sentiment.
Strict obligation you see, of course, that there is none whatever. If
it would please you to use a large sum of money in this way, you have a
perfect right to do so. But, by-the-bye, oughtn't you to make the
Bartles people clearly understand who it is that builds their chapel?"

"Surely there is no need of that?"

"I think so. The scruple, in my case, would be far more on this side
than on the other."

Miriam did not care to pursue the conversation. The one result of it
was that she had an added uncertainty. She had thought that her
proposal to fulfil the promise would at least earn the respect which is
due to stern conscientiousness; but Eleanor clearly regarded it as
matter for the smile one bestows on good-natured folly. Her questions
even showed that she was at first in doubt as to the motives which had
revived this project--a doubt galling to Miriam, because of its
justification. She said, in going away:

"Please to consider that this was in confidence, Eleanor."

Confidence of a barren kind. It was the same now as it had ever been;
she had no one with whom she could communicate her secrets, no friend
in the nearer sense. On this loneliness she threw the blame of those
faults which she painfully recognized in herself--her frequent
insincerity, her speeches and silences calculated for effect, her pride
based on disingenuousness. If she could but have disclosed her heart in
the humility of love and trust, how would its aching have been eased!

For a long time she had been absorbed, or nearly so, in studying and
observing; but Mallard's inquiry whether she found this sufficient
touched the source whence trouble was again arising for her. Three
years ago it did not cost her much to subdue a desire which had
hopelessness for its birthright; the revival of this desire now united
itself with disquietudes of the maturing intellect, and she looked
forward in dread to a continua