d him to see that her own soul was taking the vengeance on itself
that he had bartered off for a price. Miserable, selfish, old man! All
the gold of his life had turned to paltry tinsel years ago.

At another time, Mabel was too quick of thought not to have remarked the
singularity of General Harrington's silence regarding the departure of
his step-son, but now she was only thankful to shrink away from the
subject; and, during their brief interviews, nothing but the most bland
inquiries, and polite common-places, marked his behavior. He seemed in
high good humor--more than usually lavish of money, and altogether one
of the most charming, antique gentlemen in the world. Shallow worldlings
would tell you that this decorous old rebel was happier than his
victims, and point to his rosy cheeks, his eyes twinkling with sunshine,
and his handsome, portly figure, as the proof. Let worldlings think so,
if they like; for my part, I would rather have the pain of a fine nature
like Mabel's, than the smooth, selfish sensuality, which some men
honestly call happiness. Shallow and frozen waters are never turbulent,
but who envies the ice over one, or the pebbles under the other?
Happiness! Why, one little word in that handsome, old man's ear, would
make him shiver, and tremble, and look the coward, as Mabel would never
do, woman though she was--the one word _death_; just speak it! Mark how
the color will flee from his frightened face! Speak that same word to
her, and you will see her features, so sad before, light up with a
pearly glow, like that shed through an alabaster lamp when its perfumed
oil is alight.

But Mabel is just beginning to awake from the thrall in which her mind
has been held, and wonder a little at Ralph's changed manner--his look
is so grave and stern now--he utters no complaint, and says but little
in any way; these moods shock his mother less than the old one, but it
lifts her out of her dreams, and makes her thoughtful once more. But,
Ralph is no longer communicative--he is sometimes seen holding long
conversations with Agnes Barker in the now deserted breakfast-room, but
he avoids honest old Ben, and talks cautiously and under restraint with
his mother. This is a new phase of Ralph's character which Mabel
regards with something like surprise; but her energies are all
prostrated for the time, and in these vague surmises there is not shock
enough to arouse them into life again.

There was one thing which Mabel,