een haunted
by the fear of her displeasure; whereas now he could let himself go.

"We don't want to keep you a prisoner, or detain you against your
will," he said, with regard to the incident of the morning, "but if
you'll stay with us a little longer, I think we can convince you of
our good intentions."

"Who's--we?"

She shot the question at him, as she lay back in her chair, the red
book in her lap. He smiled inwardly at the ready pertinence with which
she went to a point he didn't care to discuss.

"Well, then, suppose I said--I? That'll do, won't it?"

She shot another question, her flaming eyes half veiled. "How long
would you want me to stay?"

"Suppose we didn't fix a time? Suppose we just left it--like that?"

The question rose to her lips: "But in the end I'm to go?" only, on
second thoughts she repressed it. She preferred that the situation
should be left "like that," since it meant that she was not at once to
be separated from the prince. The fact that she was legally the
prince's wife had as little reality to her as to him. Could she have
had what she yearned for law or no law would have been the same to
her. But since she couldn't have that, it was much that he should
come like this and sit with her by the fire in the evening.

He leaned forward and took the book from her lap. "What are you
reading? Oh, this! I haven't looked at it for years." He glanced at
the title. "_The Little Mermaid!_ That used to be my favorite. It
still is. When I was in Copenhagen I went to see the little bronze
mermaid sitting on a rock on the shore. It's a memorial to Hans
Andersen. She's quite startling for a minute--till you know what it
is. Where are you at?"

Pointing out the line at which she had stopped her hand touched his,
but all the consciousness of the accident was on her side. He seemed
to notice nothing, beginning to read aloud to her, with no suspicion
that sentiment existed.

"Many an evening and morning she rose to the place where she had left
the prince. She watched the fruits in the garden ripen and fall; she
saw the snow melt from the high mountains; but the prince she never
saw, and she came home sadder than ever. Her one consolation was to
sit in her little garden, with her arms clasped round the marble
statue which was like the prince----"

"That'd be me," Letty whispered to herself; "my arms clasped round a
marble statue--like my prince--but only a marble statue."

"Her flowers were neglect