mistake was not in the Venetian post-office; but he saw that he brought
her greater distress in ascertaining the fact. He got to dreading a look
of resolute cheerfulness that came into her face, when he shook his
head in sign that there were no letters, and he suffered from the covert
eagerness with which she glanced at the superscriptions of those he
brought and failed to find the hoped-for letter among them. Ordeal for
ordeal, he was beginning to regret his trials under Mrs. Lander. In them
he could at least demand Clementina's sympathy, but against herself this
was impossible. Once she noted his mute distress at hers, and broke into
a little laugh that he found very harrowing.

"I guess you hate it almost as much as I do, Mr. Bennam."

"I guess I do. I've half a mind to write the letter you want, myself."

"I've half a mind to let you--or the letter I'd like to write."

It had come to her thinking she would write again to Hinkle; but she
could not bring herself to do it. She often imagined doing it; she had
every word of such a letter in her mind; and she dramatized every fact
concerning it from the time she should put pen to paper, to the time
when she should get back the answer that cleared the mystery of his
silence away. The fond reveries helped her to bear her suspense; they
helped to make the days go by, to ease the doubt with which she lay down
at night, and the heartsick hope with which she rose up in the morning.

One day, at the hour of his wonted visit, she say the vice-consul from
her balcony coming, as it seemed to her, with another figure in his
gondola, and a thousand conjectures whirled through her mind, and then
centred upon one idea. After the first glance she kept her eyes down,
and would not look again while she told herself incessantly that it
could not be, and that she was a fool and a goose and a perfect coot, to
think of such a thing for a single moment. When she allowed herself, or
forced herself, to look a second time; as the boat drew near, she had to
cling to the balcony parapet for support, in her disappointment.

The person whom the vice-consul helped out of the gondola was an elderly
man like himself, and she took a last refuge in the chance that he might
be Hinkle's father, sent to bring her to him because he could not come
to her; or to soften some terrible news to her. Then her fancy fluttered
and fell, and she waited patiently for the fact to reveal itself.
There was something