with a man I despised."

"You have been saved, then, from a greater evil."

"Yes;--but not the less is his injury to me. It is not because he
despises me that he rejects me;--nor is it because he thought that I
had taken property that was not my own."

"Why then?"

"Because he was afraid the world would say that I had done so. Poor
shallow creature! But he shall be punished."

"I do not know how you can punish him."

"Leave that to me. I have another thing to do much more difficult."
She paused, looking for a moment up into his face, and then turning
her eyes upon the ground. As he said nothing, she went on. "I have to
excuse myself to you for having accepted him."

"I have never blamed you."

"Not in words. How should you? But if you have not blamed me in your
heart, I despise you. I know you have. I have seen it in your eyes
when you have counselled me, either to take the poor creature or to
leave him. Speak out, now, like a man. Is it not so?"

"I never thought you loved him."

"Loved him! Is there anything in him or about him that a woman could
love? Is he not a poor social stick;--a bit of half-dead wood, good
to make a post of, if one wants a post? I did want a post so sorely
then!"

"I don't see why."

"You don't?"

"No, indeed. It was natural that you should be inclined to marry
again."

"Natural that I should be inclined to marry again! And is that
all? It is hard sometimes to see whether men are thick-witted, or
hypocrites so perfect that they seem to be so. I cannot bring myself
to think you thick-witted, Frank."

"Then I must be the perfect hypocrite,--of course."

"You believed I accepted Lord Fawn because it was natural that I
should wish to marry again! Frank, you believed nothing of the kind.
I accepted him in my anger, in my misery, in my despair, because
I had expected you to come to me,--and you had not come!" She had
thrown herself now into a chair, and sat looking at him. "You had
told me that you would come, and you had stayed away. It was you,
Frank, that I wanted to punish then;--but there was no punishment in
it for you. When is it to be, Frank?"

"When is what to be?" he asked, in a low voice, all but dumb-founded.
How was he to put an end to this conversation, and what was he to say
to her?

"Your marriage with that little wizened thing who gave you the
ring--that prim morsel of feminine propriety who has been clever
enough to make you believe that her morality would