n with the snaky movements and the sleepy
eyes. Can you certify to that?"

"Positively. Her refusal has completely crushed him."

"Very well. Then I mean to make Madame Fontaine marry him--always
supposing there is no other man in his way."

"My dear aunt, how you talk! At Madame Fontaine's age! With a grown-up
daughter!"

"My dear nephew, you know absolutely nothing about women. Counting by
years, I grant you they grow old. Counting by sensations, they remain
young to the end of their days. Take a word of advice from me. The
evidence of their gray hair may look indisputable; the evidence of their
grown-up children may look indisputable. Don't believe it! There is but
one period in the women's lives when you may feel quite certain that they
have definitely given the men their dismissal--the period when they are
put in their coffins. Hush! What's that outside? When there is a noisy
silk dress and a silent foot on the stairs, in this house, I know already
what it means. Be off with you!"

She was quite right. Madame Fontaine entered, as I rose to leave the
room.

The widow showed none of her daughter's petulance. She was sweet and
patient; she saluted Mrs. Wagner with a sad smile which seemed to say,
"Outrage my most sacred feelings, dear madam; they are entirely at your
disposal." If I had believed that my aunt had the smallest chance of
carrying her point, I should have felt far from easy about Mr. Engelman's
prospects. As it was, I left the two ladies to their fruitless interview,
and returned composedly to my work.

CHAPTER XXV

When supper was announced, I went upstairs again to show my aunt the way
to the room in which we took our meals.

"Well?" I said.

"Well," she answered coolly, "Madame Fontaine has promised to reconsider
it."

I confess I was staggered. By what possible motives could the widow have
been animated? Even Mr. Engelman's passive assistance was now of no
further importance to her. She had gained Mr. Keller's confidence; her
daughter's marriage was assured; her employment in the house offered her
a liberal salary, a respectable position, and a comfortable home. Why
should she consent to reconsider the question of marrying a man, in whom
she could not be said to feel any sort of true interest, in any possible
acceptation of the words? I began to think that my aunt was right, and
that I really did know absolutely nothing about women.

At supper Madame Fontaine and her daughter were