is rich English inflections, the revival of habit and
association made her weak as water, so that she suddenly sat down and
could find nothing to say. But Crabbe was quite at his ease, the
encounter with Father Rielle had sharpened his wits and given him a
restored opinion of himself, and in Pauline he saw a very handsome and
attractive, warm-hearted and talented woman, still young and once very
dear to him. The dormant affection in both was near the surface and
Crabbe, knowing from her silence and downcast eyes how she felt, put
some check on himself.

"Small use to either of us," he sighed, "to renew those passionate
scenes of our youth! But I can still admire you and wish with all my
heart--my heart you doubtless think black and altogether corrupt,
Pauline--that you were for me to win afresh and wear openly this time,
and that I might offer you a future unsullied. I suppose that your
Methodist parson is after you, too, and that he will be the lucky one!
He's handsome, d----n him--and steady as mountains; he does thy work, O
Duty, and knows it not. I have little doubt but that flowers bend
before him in their beds, that fragrance in his footing treads, and
that the most ancient heavens----what's the rest of it? But you know,
Pauline, you know you'll never be happy with him!"

Miss Clairville murmured something he did not catch, and it was a
marvel to see how completely she lost her gay, assertive air, her
dashing theatrical address in the presence of the guide.

"He's been at me several times about reforming. Well, if I did what
would there be for me here? A big, long purse, Pauline, that's what I
want--a big, long purse, my girl, and then you and I might leave this
place and all these old harrowing associations. What about that
Hawthorne business? Do you ever hear?"

"Sometimes," whispered Miss Clairville. "Antoine, as you may have
noticed, acts for me. I give him the money, but I never go myself. I
could not bear to see it--to see her--and it is not necessary."

"Poor girl!" said Crabbe, with much feeling. "It's hard on you, damned
hard, I know. What's the matter? Oh--the swearing! I'm sorry, live
too much by myself--forget myself. But Pauline, almost I think Father
Rielle's advice will have to be followed. It would be a haven--a
haven--better than the stage. If I could reform, could change my skin
and lose my spots--but no! Even the fulminations of your latest
admirer cannot work that mira