lustre. They were of no
value, save as they had the sanction of MacLeod. Electra moved a pace
nearer the door. She was impatient, Rose believed, to have her gone.

"Good-by, Electra," she said lingeringly and sadly. "I can't persuade
you, can I?"

"No, you can't persuade me."

"And you glory in it!"

"Yes. And I thank God I have something to glory in."

At last she had it, the purpose of her life, though it was only a
memory. But after all, what might she not turn it into? For she was
pressing on as rashly as if the army of her desires were not at the
cliff's edge below which foamed the sea, and in the sea, perhaps, lay
glorious disaster.

"I shall be in Paris within a month," Rose hesitated. "If I can do
anything for you there,--I told you the Brotherhood was not easily
found, but I could introduce you to the leaders."

"They will flock about you," said Electra, with a candid bitterness,
"because you are his daughter."

"Not long. There are things to do,--money to make over to them, money
that stood in his name. Everything was in his name. I don't know how
much he had of his own, so I shall keep my mother's and give back the
rest."

"That will be right," said Electra. She did not add "ethically."
Outlines had grown too sharp for that.

Rose held out her hand, and Electra, after a perceptible hesitation,
took it in her firm grasp. Having it, she seemed warmed, through the
contact, to something more humble and more natural. Still holding it,
she looked Rose in the face, as if she tried to read her deepest self.

"Tell me," she said, and stopped.

"Yes, Electra." The girl's voice was very soft. She felt as if she could
tell Electra anything that would help her.

"Did he love you?" The words came with difficulty, whether from jealousy
or pure interest Electra herself could not say.

Rose stood a moment, not so much considering her answer as grieved that
she must give it.

"No, Electra," she said then. "My father loved nobody,--but himself."

Then, as Electra dropped her hand, she went away. But after three paces
she returned, doubtful of her own judgment, but ready to venture it.

"Electra," she said, "the papers have begun already to report a woman's
speeches to the Brotherhood. You saw that yesterday."

Electra bowed her head silently. She was white to the lips.

"That woman was Ivan Gorof's mistress. My father separated them, for a
time, just as he is separating you now from all your past. Ivan