mean it. That mention of the primmer
donner and her protager upset me; but I am your wife yet, Stacy,
dear--your true and lawful wife--just as ready to travel with you into
every tropical climate of Europe as I ever was."

Stacy would not clasp his flame-colored fingers around that hand, but
let it drop with ignominious looseness, while he drew a handkerchief
from his pocket and buried his face in it.

"Harriet! Harriet! you have hurt my feelings, mortified my--my manhood
before an old friend!"

It was in the night, the carriage was close, the lamps dim, and Hepworth
only knew that there a heap of drapery launched itself into the front
seat, that a voice came from the midst, saying:

"Oh, Matthew! Matthew!"

Then the white handkerchief dropped like a flag at half mast, and the
reconciliation was complete.

CHAPTER VII.

THE OPERATIC SUPPER.

"Indeed, Mr. Closs, I insist!"

"But, my dear child, I have no particular desire to go."

"That is because you think that I care about it. Why should I? In fact,
it is unbearable that you should have the idea."

Hepworth Closs had in all loyalty told Lady Clara of the invitation he
had received from Olympia, and, instead of resenting it as he expected,
she met his vague desire more than half-way--one of the wisest things
any woman can do, for half the sins in the world are committed because
they are forbidden; not that this young girl knew of the wisdom. With
her, it was half pride, half bravado; she was indignant that Hepworth
should think of going--more indignant that he should have refused the
invitation at once, without telling her of it.

The result was, she insisted on his accepting it, though her heart was
burning with jealousy all the time.

Closs, as I have said somewhere, had learned many things in his travels;
but in Japan and the frontier countries of America girls like Clara had
not often come under his observation, and he was far too deeply in love
for a cool examination of her character or actions.

So her impulse of unbounded generosity deceived him utterly, and having
some shrinking curiosity regarding Daniel Yates' daughter, he resolved
to accept Olympia's invitation.

Of course, Clara found a dozen absurd reasons for quarreling with him
that day, not one of which seemed to relate to Olympia; yet that
beautiful woman was the root of them all, if Hepworth could have
understood it.

But he only comprehended that every room in that sumptu