desire the adulation
of us poor American plebeians? I had not thought it, madame."

Slowly her dark eyes turned towards him; she stood a statue.

"But I forget," he went on, a tinge of bitterness for a moment showing
itself in his smile: "perhaps in returning to her own country, Evelyn
Blake has so far forgotten the last two years as to find pleasure again
in the toys and foibles of her youth. Such things have been, I hear."
And he bowed almost to the ground in his half sarcastic homage.

"Evelyn Blake! It is long since I have heard that name," she murmured.

He could not restrain the quick flush from mounting to his brow. "Pardon
me," said he, "if it brings you sadness or unwelcome memories. I promise
you I will not so transgress again."

A wan smile crossed her lips grown suddenly pallid.

"You mistake," said she; "if my name brings up a past laden with bitter
memories and shadowed by regret, it also recalls much that is pleasant
and never to be forgotten. I do not object to hearing my girlhood's name
uttered--by my nearest relative."

The answer was dignity itself. "Your name is Countess De Mirac, your
relatives must be proud to utter it."

A gleam not unlike the lightning's quick flash shot from the eyes she
drooped before him.

"Is it Holman Blake I am listening to," said she; "I do not recognize my
old friend in the cool and sarcastic man of the world now before me."

"We often fail to recognize the work of our hands, madame, after it has
fallen from our grasp."

"What," she cried, "do you mean--would you say that--"

"I would say nothing," interrupted he calmly, stooping for the fan she
had dropped. "At an interview which is at once a meeting and a parting,
I would give utterance to nothing which would seem like recrimination.
I--"

"Wait," suddenly exclaimed she, reaching out her hand for her fan with a
gesture lofty as it was resolute. "You have spoken a word which demands
explanation; what have I ever done to you that you should speak the word
recrimination to me?"

"What? You shook my faith in womankind; you showed me that a woman who
had once told a man she loved him, could so far forget that love as to
marry one she could never respect, for the sake of titles and jewels.
You showed me--"

"Hold," said she again, this time without gesture or any movement, save
that of her lips grown pallid as marble, "and what did you show me?"

He started, colored profoundly, and for a moment stood befor