r have come to me? Why did
she stay so long? Why did he go away with her? And why hasn't she
returned home?"

Question followed question with cold deliberateness, as if the matter
barely concerned her.

"But Mallard? What is Mallard to her?"

"How can I tell?"

"Were they together much in Rome?"

"I think very likely they were."

"Miriam, I can't believe this. How could it happen that you were near
Mallard's studio just then? How could you stand about for hours,
spying?"

"Perhaps I dreamt it."

"Where is this studio?" he asked. "I knew the other day, but I have
forgotten."

She told him the address.

"Very well, then I must go there. You still adhere to your story?"

"Why should I invent it?" she exclaimed bitterly "And what is there
astonishing in it? What right have _you_ to be astonished?"

"Every right!" he answered, with violence. "What warning have I had of
such a thing?"

She rose and moved away with a scornful laugh. For a minute he looked
at her as she stood apart, her face turned from him.

"If I find Mallard," he said, "of course I shall tell him who my
authority is."

She turned.

"No; that you will not do!"

"And why not?"

"Because I forbid you. You will not dare to mention my name in any such
conversation! Besides"--her voice fell to a tone of indifference--"if
you meet him, there will be no need. You will ask your question, and
that will be enough. There is very little chance of his being at the
studio."

"I see that your Puritan spirit is gratified," he said, looking at her
with fierce eyes.

"Naturally."

He went towards the door. Miriam, raising her eyes and following him a
step or two, said sternly:

"In any case, you understand that my name is not to be spoken. Show at
least some remnant of honour. Remember who I am, and don't involve me
in your degradation."

"Have no fear. Your garment of righteousness shall not be soiled."

When he was gone, Miriam sat for a short time alone. She had not
foreseen this sequel of yesterday's event. In spite of all the
promptings of her jealous fear, she had striven to explain Cecily's
visit in some harmless way. Mean what it might, it tortured her; but,
in her ignorance of what was happening between Cecily and her husband,
she tried to believe that Mallard was perhaps acting the part of
reconciler--not an unlikely thing, as her better judgment told her. Now
she could no longer listen to such calm suggestions. Cecily had
abandon