at his perfidious words, his wholly artificial manner, which broke on me
as suddenly and as glaringly on the eye as rouge will do on a woman's
cheek in sunshine, which we have thought real bloom in shadow. I
wondered then, how I ever could have been deceived. I wonder less now.

"Sit down, Mr. Bainrothe," I said, coldly, withdrawing my hands quietly
from his grasp, and recovering with my composure my strength. "Do not
concern yourself about my health, I beg. It is quite good just now, and
will probably remain so for some time. My spells occur at distant
intervals."

"I know how that is, or has been; but we must try to break them up
altogether. We will go to Paris next year, and have the best advice; in
the mean time Dr. Pemberton must try some new remedy for you, or call in
counsel. On this point I am quite determined."

"I am satisfied that Dr. Pemberton, who understands my constitution
thoroughly, is my best adviser. I shall decline all other medical aid,"
I replied. "Nature is on my side--I am young, vigorous, growing still,
probably, in strength, and shall fling off my malady eventually, as a
strong man casts a serpent from his thigh. I have little fear on that
score. Nor do I think, with some others, that my disease is epilepsy;
though, if it were, God knows I should have little need for shame."

"Miriam, what an idea! Epilepsy, indeed!" He was very nervous now, I
saw. "Epilepsy, indeed!"--he faltered again.

"As to those scars, Claude," I said, fixing my eyes upon him, "they
were honorably earned in my sister's service. Your father knows the
details, which I spare your fastidious ear. I cannot wonder, however,
that they shocked you, with your previous feelings to me. I do not like
to look upon them myself, yet I have never felt them a humiliation until
now." I knew that my forehead flushed hotly as I proceeded, and my lips
trembled. The reaction was complete.

"Miriam, what does all this mean?" he asked, rising suddenly from his
seat as pale as ashes, and clinging to the mantel-shelf for support as
he did so.

"It means, Claude Bainrothe," I said, firmly, "it means simply this:
that our engagement is at an end; that you are free from all claims of
mine from this moment, and that henceforth we can only meet as friends
or strangers--as the first, I trust!" I stretched forth my hand toward
him kindly, irresistibly. He did not seem to notice it.

"Who has done this?" he asked, huskily. "Evelyn? This is her wor