n return for the quiet look of scorn he
encountered. I saw at once the hopeless nature of the case.

"You will show me your accounts, Mr. Bainrothe," I observed, haughtily;
"I require this at least!"

"When you have attained your majority, certainly, Miriam, not before. At
present, I have only Evelyn Erle to satisfy on that score, and the law;
I refer you to your guardian."

"Or whomsoever I choose to substitute as my guardian," I said; "I
believe that privilege vests in me, being over eighteen."

"There are outside provisions in your father's will that debar you,
unfortunately, from that usual privilege of minors of your age," he
rejoined, quietly. "I regret this for many reasons: I should be glad to
quiet any doubts you may entertain at once, but it is impossible that,
compatibly with self-respect, I can do this, after what you have
insinuated this morning; so you must wait, with what patience you can
command, for the coming of your majority."

"Nearly two years to wait!" I cried; "I should die before then, if only
of impatience. No, I will know at once. I will write to Mr. Gerald
Stanbury--I will go to the president of the bank--nay, to Mr. Biddle
himself. I will resolve this matter."

"You will do no such thing, my very dear young friend," said Mr.
Bainrothe, advancing and laying his hand lightly on my arm--I shook it
off, as if it had been a cold, crawling serpent. He retreated quietly
but quickly. "You will do no such thing, Miriam," he repeated, resuming
his post by the mantel-shelf, without evincing the least discomposure at
my behavior to him; "your own good sense, your own good feeling will
come to your assistance when you look this matter fully in the face, and
dispassionately, which I must say you are not doing now. I have not
earned at your hands mistrust and obloquy like this, Miriam; but, for
the sake of the past, I shall strive and bear with the present. Who has
inspired you with such opinions of me?"

Accomplished hypocrite! He tried to assume a much-injured air, to mingle
forbearance with his reproachful words; but my heart was as hard toward
him as a nether millstone, and his words made no impression on my flinty
feelings, not even enough to strike fire therefrom, or sparks.

"No one," I replied, "no one; I judge for myself in all instances. Why
did you secrete gold in the dead hour of the night, which, unless you
bore it away in the same mysterious, or even more subtle manner, ought
still to