strangeness--he's sorry for me. Yes, I think that, deep within, he
pities me."

Her companion wondered. "For the state you've let yourself get into?"

"For not being happy when I've so much to make me so."

"You've everything," said Mrs. Assingham with alacrity. Yet she remained
for an instant embarrassed as to a further advance. "I don't understand,
however, how, if you've done nothing--"

An impatience from Maggie had checked her. "I've not done absolutely
'nothing.'"

"But what then--?"

"Well," she went on after a minute, "he knows what I've done."

It produced on Mrs. Assingham's part, her whole tone and manner
exquisitely aiding, a hush not less prolonged, and the very duration
of which inevitably gave it something of the character of an equal
recognition. "And what then has HE done?"

Maggie took again a minute. "He has been splendid."

"'Splendid'? Then what more do you want?"

"Ah, what you see!" said Maggie. "Not to be afraid."

It made her guest again hang fire. "Not to be afraid really to speak?"

"Not to be afraid NOT to speak."

Mrs. Assingham considered further. "You can't even to Charlotte?" But
as, at this, after a look at her, Maggie turned off with a movement of
suppressed despair, she checked herself and might have been watching
her, for all the difficulty and the pity of it, vaguely moving to the
window and the view of the hill street. It was almost as if she had
had to give up, from failure of responsive wit in her friend--the last
failure she had feared--the hope of the particular relief she had been
working for. Mrs. Assingham resumed the next instant, however, in the
very tone that seemed most to promise her she should have to give up
nothing. "I see, I see; you would have in that case too many things to
consider." It brought the Princess round again, proving itself thus the
note of comprehension she wished most to clutch at. "Don't be afraid."

Maggie took it where she stood--which she was soon able to signify.
"Thank-you."

It very properly encouraged her counsellor. "What your idea imputes is
a criminal intrigue carried on, from day to day, amid perfect trust and
sympathy, not only under your eyes, but under your father's. That's an
idea it's impossible for me for a. moment to entertain."

"Ah, there you are then! It's exactly what I wanted from you."

"You're welcome to it!" Mrs. Assingham breathed.

"You never HAVE entertained it?" Maggie pursued.

"Never for an ins