ut book. Nothing but her change of name and,
perhaps, a little money would remain to testify that Denas Penelles
had ever been Denasia Tresham.

Do as she would, she could not keep these thoughts apart from her
memories of her lover and her husband. She arrested her mind
continually and bade herself remember the days of her gay bridal, or
else those two lonely graves far beyond the western sea; and then, ere
she was aware, her memories of the past had become speculations about
the future. And she was abashed by this arid, incurable egotism in
the most secret place of her soul. She felt it making itself known
continually in her hard determination to make the best of things; she
knew that it was this feeling which was determined to close the death
chamber, to deny all torturing memories; which said, in effect, "what
is finished is finished, and the dead are dead."

But the conflict wearied her almost to insensibility. She was also
physically exhausted by travel, and the next day she slept profoundly
until nearly the noon hour. It had been her intention to see Elizabeth
in the morning, and she was provoked at her own remissness, for what
she feared in reality happened--Elizabeth was out driving when she
reached her residence. The porter thought it would be six o'clock ere
she could receive any visitor, "business or no business."

Denas said she would call at six o'clock, and charged the man to tell
his mistress so.

But the visit and the engagement passed from the servant's mind. In
fact, he had, as he claimed, a very genteel mind. Callers who came in
a common cab did not find an entry into it. Elizabeth returned in due
season from her drive, drank a cup of tea, and then made her evening
toilet. For Lord Sudleigh was to dine with her, and Lord Sudleigh was
the most important person in Elizabeth's life. It was her intention,
as soon as she had paid the last tittle of mint, anise, and cummin to
Mr. Burrell's memory, to become Lady Sudleigh. Everyone said it was a
most proper alliance, the proposed bride having money and beauty and
the bridegroom-elect birth, political influence, and quite as much
love as was necessary to such a matrimonial contract.

Elizabeth, however, in spite of her pleasant prospect for the evening,
was in a bad temper. The bishop's wife had snubbed her in the drive,
and her dressmaker had disappointed her in a new costume. The March
wind also had reddened her face, and perhaps she had a premonition