uthor of all this sorrow and confusion--worthy of Mr. Basil
Bainrothe, the arch-conspirator himself."

He turned upon me with clinched hands and blazing eyes. "You shall
answer for these words, girl! if not now, years hence," he said; "the
seed of your insult has been thrown on fertile soil, I promise you!" and
he laughed bitterly.

"I do not fear you," I replied; all disguise was thrown off--it was war
to the knife between us now; "never have--never can, in spite of your
unmanly threats. Evelyn must protect me henceforth from any further
contact with you, however, until I am of age to take in hand my own
affairs; Evelyn Erie, my guardian, and your fellow-executor, owes me
this safeguard. I trust, Mr. Bainrothe, we shall meet no more."

I left the room--left him in possession of the library, in which he
paced up and down for an hour or more, like a caged panther. There was a
sealed note for me in his handwriting, under the massive paper-weight on
the table, when I entered it again, which he had written and left there
before his departure. It ran thus--for I read it derisively, and
remember its contents still:

"We have both been wrong, dear Miriam. I, as the elder and more
experienced offender--therefore, the more responsible one--claim it as
my privilege to be the first to atone. I cannot think, from what I know
of you, that you will be long in following my example. Let us forgive
one another. Fate has thrown us together, and we must not afford a
malicious world the spectacle of our inconsistency, or the satisfaction
of seeing us quarrel, after so many years of harmony.

"As to Claude, you and he must settle your own matters. I wash my hands
of the whole transaction from this hour, supposing that common-sense
will triumph at last, and reconcile your differences.

"Yours as ever, truly and devotedly,

"BASIL BAINROTHE."

I did not answer this note--I could not discreetly, although I tried to
do so several times. I could not conquer sufficiently my deep disgust of
his insupportable behavior to respond kindly, at that time, to any
overture of Mr. Bainrothe's, nor did I wish to write one rude word to
him in connection with so delicate a subject as that of our late
discussion.

He came no more until after Evelyn's return, and then only on necessary
business; inquiring for her alone, and holding on such occasions secret
conclaves with her invariably in the library. Whenever we met casually,
however, whether in the