t really insensible--you will, wont you?"

This, the first tender tone he had ever heard in her voice, made him
look at her curiously. "What does the letter say?" he asked, still
quietly, but inexorably.

She snatched it up again. "Here," she said. "'_Our marriage was a
mistake. I am going away with Douglas to the other side of the world. It
is all I can do to mend matters. Pray forget me_.' That is what her
letter says, since you condescend to ask."

"It is too late, then. You felt that as you read it, I think?"

"Yes," she cried, sitting down in a paroxysm of grief, but unable to
weep. "It is too late; and it is all your fault. What business had you
to go away? You knew what was going to happen. You intended it to
happen. You wanted it to happen. You are glad it has happened; and it
serves you right. '_Pray forget her_.' Oh, yes, poor girl! she need not
trouble about that. I declare there is nothing viler, meaner,
cowardlier, selfisher on earth than a man. Oh, if we had only done what
we always said we would do--kept free from you!"

"It was a good plan," said Conolly, submissively.

"Was it? How were we to know that you were not made of flesh and blood,
pray? There, let me go. [The table was between them; but she rose and
shook off an imaginary detaining hand.] I dont want to hear anything
more about it. I suppose you are right not to care. Very likely she was
right to go, too; so we are all right, and everything is for the best,
no doubt. Marian is ruined, of course; but what does that matter to you?
She was only in your way. You can console yourself with your--" Here
Armande came in; and Elinor turned quickly to the fireplace and stood
there, so that the housemaid should not see her face.

"Your dinner, sir," said Armande, with a certain artificiality of manner
that was, under the circumstances, significant. "There is a nice fire in
the laboratory."

"Thank you," said Conolly. "Presently, Armande."

"The things will spoil if you wait too long, sir. The mistress was very
particular with me and cook about it." And Armande, with an air of
declining further responsibility, went out.

"What shall I do without Marian?" said Conolly. "Not one woman in a
hundred is capable of being a mistress to her servants. She saved me all
the friction of housekeeping."

"You are beginning to feel your loss," said Elinor, facing him again. "A
pleasant thing for a woman of her talent to be thrown away to save you
the frictio