oulders;
her volatile spirits were already rising at the idea of an escape from
that shadowy chamber where she had dragged through the day.

Elizabeth was calm and self-possessed as ever. To a casual observer she
looked pale, but her heavy black dress might account for that, and the
delicate contrast it gave to her complexion made amends for any lack of
bloom.

Mellen sat watching her while she greeted Mr. Rhodes, and listened
patiently to his labored compliments.

"Is she stone--ice?" he thought. "Is there no touch of nature about her
that she can be so calm?"

If the man could have read her mind, he might have pitied her even in
the midst of his anger and fearful doubts. What she suffered in putting
that terrible restraint upon herself was almost beyond the power of
belief; but woman-like, having formed her resolution, not all the
tortures of the rack could have driven her from it.

Elsie had seated herself on a low stool at her brother's feet; he sat
absently playing with her curls, and looking moodily into the fire, but
he had no words even for her, though she tempted him with rather
mournful smiles. But he had been so silent and sullen by times during
the past week, that there was not change enough in his manner to be at
all perceptible.

Sometimes Elizabeth glanced over at the pair, and then some sharp pain
contracted her brows, but there was no other appearance of emotion; she
would control even that instantly, and bending her head once more,
listen patiently to her persecutor's verbiage.

Dolf announced dinner, and the party passed into the dining-room, Mr.
Rhodes honoring the hostess with his arm. As Mellen and his sister
followed, Elizabeth heard Elsie whisper in a low voice:

"Grant, dear, you are not cross with me?"

In the midst of Mr. Rhodes's uproarious laugh at one of his own jokes,
she caught Mellen's answer:

"Never, darling, never! You are my one comfort--my only blessing."

With her head more proudly erect, a faint crimson beginning to burn on
her cheeks, Elizabeth Mellen walked on and took her seat at the table,
appearing so completely engrossed in Mr. Rhodes's conversation that she
did not once meet her husband's eye.

To all but the guest, that dinner seemed interminable, but Mr. Rhodes
was so busy with the delicacies Clorinda's skillful hands had prepared,
and so full of himself, that he was in a perfect glow of content.

The lights danced before Elizabeth's eyes, every morsel she