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chapter 6 the afternoon was perfect.a deeper stillness possessed the air, and the glitter of the american autumn wastempered by a haze which diffused the brightness without dulling it. in the woody hollows of the park there wasalready a faint chill; but as the ground rose the air grew lighter, and ascendingthe long slopes beyond the high-road, lily and her companion reached a zone oflingering summer. the path wound across a meadow withscattered trees; then it dipped into a lane plumed with asters and purpling sprays ofbramble, whence, through the light quiver

of ash-leaves, the country unrolled itselfin pastoral distances. higher up, the lane showed thickening tuftsof fern and of the creeping glossy verdure of shaded slopes; trees began to overhangit, and the shade deepened to the checkered dusk of a beech-grove. the boles of the trees stood well apart,with only a light feathering of undergrowth; the path wound along the edgeof the wood, now and then looking out on a sunlit pasture or on an orchard spangledwith fruit. lily had no real intimacy with nature, butshe had a passion for the appropriate and could be keenly sensitive to a scene whichwas the fitting background of her own

sensations. the landscape outspread below her seemed anenlargement of her present mood, and she found something of herself in its calmness,its breadth, its long free reaches. on the nearer slopes the sugar-mapleswavered like pyres of light; lower down was a massing of grey orchards, and here andthere the lingering green of an oak-grove. two or three red farm-houses dozed underthe apple-trees, and the white wooden spire of a village church showed beyond theshoulder of the hill; while far below, in a haze of dust, the high-road ran between thefields. "let us sit here," selden suggested, asthey reached an open ledge of rock above

which the beeches rose steeply betweenmossy boulders. lily dropped down on the rock, glowing withher long climb. she sat quiet, her lips parted by thestress of the ascent, her eyes wandering peacefully over the broken ranges of thelandscape. selden stretched himself on the grass ather feet, tilting his hat against the level sun-rays, and clasping his hands behind hishead, which rested against the side of the rock. he had no wish to make her talk; her quick-breathing silence seemed a part of the general hush and harmony of things.

in his own mind there was only a lazy senseof pleasure, veiling the sharp edges of sensation as the september haze veiled thescene at their feet. but lily, though her attitude was as calmas his, was throbbing inwardly with a rush of thoughts. there were in her at the moment two beings,one drawing deep breaths of freedom and exhilaration, the other gasping for air ina little black prison-house of fears. but gradually the captive's gasps grewfainter, or the other paid less heed to them: the horizon expanded, the air grewstronger, and the free spirit quivered for flight.

she could not herself have explained thesense of buoyancy which seemed to lift and swing her above the sun-suffused world ather feet. was it love, she wondered, or a merefortuitous combination of happy thoughts and sensations? how much of it was owing to the spell ofthe perfect afternoon, the scent of the fading woods, the thought of the dulnessshe had fled from? lily had no definite experience by which totest the quality of her feelings. she had several times been in love withfortunes or careers, but only once with a man.

that was years ago, when she first cameout, and had been smitten with a romantic passion for a young gentleman named herbertmelson, who had blue eyes and a little wave in his hair. mr. melson, who was possessed of no othernegotiable securities, had hastened to employ these in capturing the eldest missvan osburgh: since then he had grown stout and wheezy, and was given to tellinganecdotes about his children. if lily recalled this early emotion it wasnot to compare it with that which now possessed her; the only point of comparisonwas the sense of lightness, of emancipation, which she remembered feeling,

in the whirl of a waltz or the seclusion ofa conservatory, during the brief course of her youthful romance. she had not known again till today thatlightness, that glow of freedom; but now it was something more than a blind groping ofthe blood. the peculiar charm of her feeling forselden was that she understood it; she could put her finger on every link of thechain that was drawing them together. though his popularity was of the quietkind, felt rather than actively expressed among his friends, she had never mistakenhis inconspicuousness for obscurity. his reputed cultivation was generallyregarded as a slight obstacle to easy

intercourse, but lily, who prided herselfon her broad-minded recognition of literature, and always carried an omar khayam in her travelling-bag, was attractedby this attribute, which she felt would have had its distinction in an oldersociety. it was, moreover, one of his gifts to lookhis part; to have a height which lifted his head above the crowd, and the keenly-modelled dark features which, in a land of amorphous types, gave him the air of belonging to a more specialized race, ofcarrying the impress of a concentrated past.

expansive persons found him a little dry,and very young girls thought him sarcastic; but this air of friendly aloofness, as farremoved as possible from any assertion of personal advantage, was the quality whichpiqued lily's interest. everything about him accorded with thefastidious element in her taste, even to the light irony with which he surveyed whatseemed to her most sacred. she admired him most of all, perhaps, forbeing able to convey as distinct a sense of superiority as the richest man she had evermet. it was the unconscious prolongation of thisthought which led her to say presently, with a laugh: "i have broken twoengagements for you today.

how many have you broken for me?" "none," said selden calmly."my only engagement at bellomont was with you."she glanced down at him, faintly smiling. "did you really come to bellomont to seeme?" "of course i did."her look deepened meditatively. "why?" she murmured, with an accent whichtook all tinge of coquetry from the question."because you're such a wonderful spectacle: i always like to see what you are doing." "how do you know what i should be doing ifyou were not here?"

selden smiled. "i don't flatter myself that my coming hasdeflected your course of action by a hair's breadth." "that's absurd--since, if you were nothere, i could obviously not be taking a walk with you.""no; but your taking a walk with me is only another way of making use of your material. you are an artist and i happen to be thebit of colour you are using today. it's a part of your cleverness to be ableto produce premeditated effects extemporaneously."

lily smiled also: his words were too acutenot to strike her sense of humour. it was true that she meant to use theaccident of his presence as part of a very definite effect; or that, at least, was thesecret pretext she had found for breaking her promise to walk with mr. gryce. she had sometimes been accused of being tooeager--even judy trenor had warned her to go slowly. well, she would not be too eager in thiscase; she would give her suitor a longer taste of suspense. where duty and inclination jumped together,it was not in lily's nature to hold them

asunder. she had excused herself from the walk onthe plea of a headache: the horrid headache which, in the morning, had prevented herventuring to church. her appearance at luncheon justified theexcuse. she looked languid, full of a sufferingsweetness; she carried a scent-bottle in her hand. mr. gryce was new to such manifestations;he wondered rather nervously if she were delicate, having far-reaching fears aboutthe future of his progeny. but sympathy won the day, and he besoughther not to expose herself: he always

connected the outer air with ideas ofexposure. lily had received his sympathy with languidgratitude, urging him, since she should be such poor company, to join the rest of theparty who, after luncheon, were starting in automobiles on a visit to the van osburghsat peekskill. mr. gryce was touched by herdisinterestedness, and, to escape from the threatened vacuity of the afternoon, hadtaken her advice and departed mournfully, in a dust-hood and goggles: as the motor- car plunged down the avenue she smiled athis resemblance to a baffled beetle. selden had watched her manoeuvres with lazyamusement.

she had made no reply to his suggestionthat they should spend the afternoon together, but as her plan unfolded itselfhe felt fairly confident of being included in it. the house was empty when at length he heardher step on the stair and strolled out of the billiard-room to join her.she had on a hat and walking-dress, and the dogs were bounding at her feet. "i thought, after all, the air might do megood," she explained; and he agreed that so simple a remedy was worth trying. the excursionists would be gone at leastfour hours; lily and selden had the whole

afternoon before them, and the sense ofleisure and safety gave the last touch of lightness to her spirit. with so much time to talk, and no definiteobject to be led up to, she could taste the rare joys of mental vagrancy. she felt so free from ulterior motives thatshe took up his charge with a touch of resentment."i don't know," she said, "why you are always accusing me of premeditation." "i thought you confessed to it: you told methe other day that you had to follow a certain line--and if one does a thing atall it is a merit to do it thoroughly."

"if you mean that a girl who has no one tothink for her is obliged to think for herself, i am quite willing to accept theimputation. but you must find me a dismal kind ofperson if you suppose that i never yield to an impulse." "ah, but i don't suppose that: haven't itold you that your genius lies in converting impulses into intentions?""my genius?" she echoed with a sudden note of weariness. "is there any final test of genius butsuccess? and i certainly haven't succeeded."selden pushed his hat back and took a side-

glance at her. "success--what is success?i shall be interested to have your definition.""success?" she hesitated. "why, to get as much as one can out oflife, i suppose. it's a relative quality, after all.isn't that your idea of it?" "my idea of it? god forbid!"he sat up with sudden energy, resting his elbows on his knees and staring out uponthe mellow fields.

"my idea of success," he said, "is personalfreedom." "freedom?freedom from worries?" "from everything--from money, from poverty,from ease and anxiety, from all the material accidents.to keep a kind of republic of the spirit-- that's what i call success." she leaned forward with a responsive flash."i know--i know--it's strange; but that's just what i've been feeling today."he met her eyes with the latent sweetness of his. "is the feeling so rare with you?" he said.she blushed a little under his gaze.

"you think me horribly sordid, don't you?but perhaps it's rather that i never had any choice. there was no one, i mean, to tell me aboutthe republic of the spirit." "there never is--it's a country one has tofind the way to one's self." "but i should never have found my way thereif you hadn't told me." "ah, there are sign-posts--but one has toknow how to read them." "well, i have known, i have known!" shecried with a glow of eagerness. "whenever i see you, i find myself spellingout a letter of the sign--and yesterday-- last evening at dinner--i suddenly saw alittle way into your republic."

selden was still looking at her, but with achanged eye. hitherto he had found, in her presence andher talk, the aesthetic amusement which a reflective man is apt to seek in desultoryintercourse with pretty women. his attitude had been one of admiringspectatorship, and he would have been almost sorry to detect in her any emotionalweakness which should interfere with the fulfilment of her aims. but now the hint of this weakness hadbecome the most interesting thing about her. he had come on her that morning in a momentof disarray; her face had been pale and

altered, and the diminution of her beautyhad lent her a poignant charm. that is how she looks when she is alone!had been his first thought; and the second was to note in her the change which hiscoming produced. it was the danger-point of theirintercourse that he could not doubt the spontaneity of her liking. from whatever angle he viewed their dawningintimacy, he could not see it as part of her scheme of life; and to be theunforeseen element in a career so accurately planned was stimulating even to a man who had renounced sentimentalexperiments.

"well," he said, "did it make you want tosee more? are you going to become one of us?" he had drawn out his cigarettes as hespoke, and she reached her hand toward the case."oh, do give me one--i haven't smoked for days!" "why such unnatural abstinence?everybody smokes at bellomont." "yes--but it is not considered becoming ina jeune fille a marier; and at the present moment i am a jeune fille a marier." "ah, then i'm afraid we can't let you intothe republic."

"why not?is it a celibate order?" "not in the least, though i'm bound to saythere are not many married people in it. but you will marry some one very rich, andit's as hard for rich people to get into as the kingdom of heaven." "that's unjust, i think, because, as iunderstand it, one of the conditions of citizenship is not to think too much aboutmoney, and the only way not to think about money is to have a great deal of it." "you might as well say that the only waynot to think about air is to have enough to breathe.

that is true enough in a sense; but yourlungs are thinking about the air, if you are not. and so it is with your rich people--theymay not be thinking of money, but they're breathing it all the while; take them intoanother element and see how they squirm and gasp!" lily sat gazing absently through the bluerings of her cigarette-smoke. "it seems to me," she said at length, "thatyou spend a good deal of your time in the element you disapprove of." selden received this thrust withoutdiscomposure.

"yes; but i have tried to remainamphibious: it's all right as long as one's lungs can work in another air. the real alchemy consists in being able toturn gold back again into something else; and that's the secret that most of yourfriends have lost." lily mused. "don't you think," she rejoined after amoment, "that the people who find fault with society are too apt to regard it as anend and not a means, just as the people who despise money speak as if its only use wereto be kept in bags and gloated over? isn't it fairer to look at them both asopportunities, which may be used either

stupidly or intelligently, according to thecapacity of the user?" "that is certainly the sane view; but thequeer thing about society is that the people who regard it as an end are thosewho are in it, and not the critics on the fence. it's just the other way with most shows--the audience may be under the illusion, but the actors know that real life is on theother side of the footlights. the people who take society as an escapefrom work are putting it to its proper use; but when it becomes the thing worked for itdistorts all the relations of life." selden raised himself on his elbow.

"good heavens!" he went on, "i don'tunderrate the decorative side of life. it seems to me the sense of splendour hasjustified itself by what it has produced. the worst of it is that so much humannature is used up in the process. if we're all the raw stuff of the cosmiceffects, one would rather be the fire that tempers a sword than the fish that dyes apurple cloak. and a society like ours wastes such goodmaterial in producing its little patch of purple! look at a boy like ned silverton--he'sreally too good to be used to refurbish anybody's social shabbiness.

there's a lad just setting out to discoverthe universe: isn't it a pity he should end by finding it in mrs. fisher's drawing-room?" "ned is a dear boy, and i hope he will keephis illusions long enough to write some nice poetry about them; but do you think itis only in society that he is likely to lose them?" selden answered her with a shrug."why do we call all our generous ideas illusions, and the mean ones truths? isn't it a sufficient condemnation ofsociety to find one's self accepting such phraseology?

i very nearly acquired the jargon atsilverton's age, and i know how names can alter the colour of beliefs."she had never heard him speak with such energy of affirmation. his habitual touch was that of theeclectic, who lightly turns over and compares; and she was moved by this suddenglimpse into the laboratory where his faiths were formed. "ah, you are as bad as the othersectarians," she exclaimed; "why do you call your republic a republic? it is a closed corporation, and you createarbitrary objections in order to keep

people out." "it is not my republic; if it were, ishould have a coup d'etat and seat you on the throne.""whereas, in reality, you think i can never even get my foot across the threshold? oh, i understand what you mean.you despise my ambitions--you think them unworthy of me!"selden smiled, but not ironically. "well, isn't that a tribute? i think them quite worthy of most of thepeople who live by them." she had turned to gaze on him gravely.

"but isn't it possible that, if i had theopportunities of these people, i might make a better use of them? money stands for all kinds of things--itspurchasing quality isn't limited to diamonds and motor-cars.""not in the least: you might expiate your enjoyment of them by founding a hospital." "but if you think they are what i shouldreally enjoy, you must think my ambitions are good enough for me."selden met this appeal with a laugh. "ah, my dear miss bart, i am not divineprovidence, to guarantee your enjoying the things you are trying to get!"

"then the best you can say for me is, thatafter struggling to get them i probably shan't like them?"she drew a deep breath. "what a miserable future you foresee forme!" "well--have you never foreseen it foryourself?" the slow colour rose to her cheek, not ablush of excitement but drawn from the deep wells of feeling; it was as if the effortof her spirit had produced it. "often and often," she said. "but it looks so much darker when you showit to me!" he made no answer to this exclamation, andfor a while they sat silent, while

something throbbed between them in the widequiet of the air. but suddenly she turned on him with a kindof vehemence. "why do you do this to me?" she cried. "why do you make the things i have chosenseem hateful to me, if you have nothing to give me instead?"the words roused selden from the musing fit into which he had fallen. he himself did not know why he had ledtheir talk along such lines; it was the last use he would have imagined himselfmaking of an afternoon's solitude with miss bart.

but it was one of those moments whenneither seemed to speak deliberately, when an indwelling voice in each called to theother across unsounded depths of feeling. "no, i have nothing to give you instead,"he said, sitting up and turning so that he faced her."if i had, it should be yours, you know." she received this abrupt declaration in away even stranger than the manner of its making: she dropped her face on her handsand he saw that for a moment she wept. it was for a moment only, however; for whenhe leaned nearer and drew down her hands with a gesture less passionate than grave,she turned on him a face softened but not disfigured by emotion, and he said to

himself, somewhat cruelly, that even herweeping was an art. the reflection steadied his voice as heasked, between pity and irony: "isn't it natural that i should try to belittle allthe things i can't offer you?" her face brightened at this, but she drewher hand away, not with a gesture of coquetry, but as though renouncingsomething to which she had no claim. "but you belittle me, don't you," shereturned gently, "in being so sure they are the only things i care for?"selden felt an inner start; but it was only the last quiver of his egoism. almost at once he answered quite simply:"but you do care for them, don't you?

and no wishing of mine can alter that." he had so completely ceased to consider howfar this might carry him, that he had a distinct sense of disappointment when sheturned on him a face sparkling with derision. "ah," she cried, "for all your fine phrasesyou're really as great a coward as i am, for you wouldn't have made one of them ifyou hadn't been so sure of my answer." the shock of this retort had the effect ofcrystallizing selden's wavering intentions. "i am not so sure of your answer," he saidquietly. "and i do you the justice to believe thatyou are not either."

it was her turn to look at him withsurprise; and after a moment--"do you want to marry me?" she asked. he broke into a laugh."no, i don't want to--but perhaps i should if you did!" "that's what i told you--you're so sure ofme that you can amuse yourself with experiments."she drew back the hand he had regained, and sat looking down on him sadly. "i am not making experiments," he returned."or if i am, it is not on you but on myself.

i don't know what effect they are going tohave on me--but if marrying you is one of them, i will take the risk."she smiled faintly. "it would be a great risk, certainly--ihave never concealed from you how great." "ah, it's you who are the coward!" heexclaimed. she had risen, and he stood facing her withhis eyes on hers. the soft isolation of the falling dayenveloped them: they seemed lifted into a finer air. all the exquisite influences of the hourtrembled in their veins, and drew them to each other as the loosened leaves weredrawn to the earth.

"it's you who are the coward," he repeated,catching her hands in his. she leaned on him for a moment, as if witha drop of tired wings: he felt as though her heart were beating rather with thestress of a long flight than the thrill of new distances. then, drawing back with a little smile ofwarning--"i shall look hideous in dowdy clothes; but i can trim my own hats," shedeclared. they stood silent for a while after this,smiling at each other like adventurous children who have climbed to a forbiddenheight from which they discover a new world.

the actual world at their feet was veilingitself in dimness, and across the valley a clear moon rose in the denser blue. suddenly they heard a remote sound, likethe hum of a giant insect, and following the high-road, which wound whiter throughthe surrounding twilight, a black object rushed across their vision. lily started from her attitude ofabsorption; her smile faded and she began to move toward the lane."i had no idea it was so late! we shall not be back till after dark," shesaid, almost impatiently. selden was looking at her with surprise: ittook him a moment to regain his usual view

of her; then he said, with anuncontrollable note of dryness: "that was not one of our party; the motor was goingthe other way." "i know--i know----" she paused, and he sawher redden through the twilight. "but i told them i was not well--that ishould not go out. let us go down!" she murmured. selden continued to look at her; then hedrew his cigarette-case from his pocket and slowly lit a cigarette. it seemed to him necessary, at that moment,to proclaim, by some habitual gesture of this sort, his recovered hold on theactual: he had an almost puerile wish to

let his companion see that, their flightover, he had landed on his feet. she waited while the spark flickered underhis curved palm; then he held out the cigarettes to her. she took one with an unsteady hand, andputting it to her lips, leaned forward to draw her light from his. in the indistinctness the little red gleamlit up the lower part of her face, and he saw her mouth tremble into a smile. "were you serious?" she asked, with an oddthrill of gaiety which she might have caught up, in haste, from a heap of stockinflections, without having time to select

the just note. selden's voice was under better control."why not?" he returned. "you see i took no risks in being so." and as she continued to stand before him, alittle pale under the retort, he added quickly: "let us go down." > chapter 7 it spoke much for the depth of mrs.trenor's friendship that her voice, in admonishing miss bart, took the same noteof personal despair as if she had been

lamenting the collapse of a house-party. "all i can say is, lily, that i can't makeyou out!" she leaned back, sighing, in the morningabandon of lace and muslin, turning an indifferent shoulder to the heaped-upimportunities of her desk, while she considered, with the eye of a physician who has given up the case, the erect exteriorof the patient confronting her. "if you hadn't told me you were going infor him seriously--but i'm sure you made that plain enough from the beginning! why else did you ask me to let you offbridge, and to keep away carry and kate

corby? i don't suppose you did it because heamused you; we could none of us imagine your putting up with him for a momentunless you meant to marry him. and i'm sure everybody played fair! they all wanted to help it along.even bertha kept her hands off--i will say that--till lawrence came down and youdragged him away from her. after that she had a right to retaliate--why on earth did you interfere with her? you've known lawrence selden for years--whydid you behave as if you had just discovered him?

if you had a grudge against bertha it was astupid time to show it--you could have paid her back just as well after you weremarried! i told you bertha was dangerous. she was in an odious mood when she camehere, but lawrence's turning up put her in a good humour, and if you'd only let herthink he came for her it would have never occurred to her to play you this trick. oh, lily, you'll never do anything ifyou're not serious!" miss bart accepted this exhortation in aspirit of the purest impartiality. why should she have been angry?

it was the voice of her own consciencewhich spoke to her through mrs. trenor's reproachful accents.but even to her own conscience she must trump up a semblance of defence. "i only took a day off--i thought he meantto stay on all this week, and i knew mr. selden was leaving this morning."mrs. trenor brushed aside the plea with a gesture which laid bare its weakness. "he did mean to stay--that's the worst ofit. it shows that he's run away from you; thatbertha's done her work and poisoned him thoroughly."

lily gave a slight laugh."oh, if he's running i'll overtake him!" her friend threw out an arresting hand."whatever you do, lily, do nothing!" miss bart received the warning with asmile. "i don't mean, literally, to take the nexttrain. there are ways----" but she did not go onto specify them. mrs. trenor sharply corrected the tense."there were ways--plenty of them! i didn't suppose you needed to have thempointed out. but don't deceive yourself--he's thoroughlyfrightened. he has run straight home to his mother, andshe'll protect him!"

"oh, to the death," lily agreed, dimplingat the vision. "how you can laugh----" her friend rebukedher; and she dropped back to a soberer perception of things with the question:"what was it bertha really told him?" "don't ask me--horrors! she seemed to have raked up everything. oh, you know what i mean--of course thereisn't anything, really; but i suppose she brought in prince varigliano--and lordhubert--and there was some story of your having borrowed money of old ned vanalstyne: did you ever?" "he is my father's cousin," miss bartinterposed.

"well, of course she left that out. it seems ned told carry fisher; and shetold bertha, naturally. they're all alike, you know: they holdtheir tongues for years, and you think you're safe, but when their opportunitycomes they remember everything." lily had grown pale: her voice had a harshnote in it. "it was some money i lost at bridge at thevan osburghs'. i repaid it, of course." "ah, well, they wouldn't remember that;besides, it was the idea of the gambling debt that frightened percy.oh, bertha knew her man--she knew just what

to tell him!" in this strain mrs. trenor continued fornearly an hour to admonish her friend. miss bart listened with admirableequanimity. her naturally good temper had beendisciplined by years of enforced compliance, since she had almost always hadto attain her ends by the circuitous path of other people's; and, being naturally inclined to face unpleasant facts as soonas they presented themselves, she was not sorry to hear an impartial statement ofwhat her folly was likely to cost, the more so as her own thoughts were still insistingon the other side of the case.

presented in the light of mrs. trenor'svigorous comments, the reckoning was certainly a formidable one, and lily, asshe listened, found herself gradually reverting to her friend's view of thesituation. mrs. trenor's words were moreoveremphasized for her hearer by anxieties which she herself could scarcely guess. affluence, unless stimulated by a keenimagination, forms but the vaguest notion of the practical strain of poverty. judy knew it must be "horrid" for poor lilyto have to stop to consider whether she could afford real lace on her petticoats,and not to have a motor-car and a steam-

yacht at her orders; but the daily friction of unpaid bills, the daily nibble of smalltemptations to expenditure, were trials as far out of her experience as the domesticproblems of the char-woman. mrs. trenor's unconsciousness of the realstress of the situation had the effect of making it more galling to lily. while her friend reproached her for missingthe opportunity to eclipse her rivals, she was once more battling in imagination withthe mounting tide of indebtedness from which she had so nearly escaped. what wind of folly had driven her out againon those dark seas?

if anything was needed to put the lasttouch to her self-abasement it was the sense of the way her old life was openingits ruts again to receive her. yesterday her fancy had fluttered freepinions above a choice of occupations; now she had to drop to the level of thefamiliar routine, in which moments of seeming brilliancy and freedom alternatedwith long hours of subjection. she laid a deprecating hand on herfriend's. "dear judy! i'm sorry to have been such a bore, and youare very good to me. but you must have some letters for me toanswer--let me at least be useful."

she settled herself at the desk, and mrs.trenor accepted her resumption of the morning's task with a sigh which impliedthat, after all, she had proved herself unfit for higher uses. the luncheon table showed a depletedcircle. all the men but jack stepney and dorset hadreturned to town (it seemed to lily a last touch of irony that selden and percy gryceshould have gone in the same train), and lady cressida and the attendant wetheralls had been despatched by motor to lunch at adistant country-house. at such moments of diminished interest itwas usual for mrs. dorset to keep her room

till the afternoon; but on this occasionshe drifted in when luncheon was half over, hollowed-eyed and drooping, but with anedge of malice under her indifference. she raised her eyebrows as she looked aboutthe table. "how few of us are left! i do so enjoy the quiet--don't you, lily?i wish the men would always stop away--it's really much nicer without them.oh, you don't count, george: one doesn't have to talk to one's husband. but i thought mr. gryce was to stay for therest of the week?" she added enquiringly. "didn't he intend to, judy?he's such a nice boy--i wonder what drove

him away? he is rather shy, and i'm afraid we mayhave shocked him: he has been brought up in such an old-fashioned way. do you know, lily, he told me he had neverseen a girl play cards for money till he saw you doing it the other night?and he lives on the interest of his income, and always has a lot left over to invest!" mrs. fisher leaned forward eagerly."i do believe it is some one's duty to educate that young man.it is shocking that he has never been made to realize his duties as a citizen.

every wealthy man should be compelled tostudy the laws of his country." mrs. dorset glanced at her quietly."i think he has studied the divorce laws. he told me he had promised the bishop tosign some kind of a petition against divorce." mrs. fisher reddened under her powder, andstepney said with a laughing glance at miss bart: "i suppose he is thinking ofmarriage, and wants to tinker up the old ship before he goes aboard." his betrothed looked shocked at themetaphor, and george dorset exclaimed with a sardonic growl: "poor devil!it isn't the ship that will do for him,

it's the crew." "or the stowaways," said miss corbybrightly. "if i contemplated a voyage with him ishould try to start with a friend in the hold." miss van osburgh's vague feeling of piquewas struggling for appropriate expression. "i'm sure i don't see why you laugh at him;i think he's very nice," she exclaimed; "and, at any rate, a girl who married himwould always have enough to be comfortable." she looked puzzled at the redoubledlaughter which hailed her words, but it

might have consoled her to know how deeplythey had sunk into the breast of one of her hearers. comfortable!at that moment the word was more eloquent to lily bart than any other in thelanguage. she could not even pause to smile over theheiress's view of a colossal fortune as a mere shelter against want: her mind wasfilled with the vision of what that shelter might have been to her. mrs. dorset's pin-pricks did not smart, forher own irony cut deeper: no one could hurt her as much as she was hurting herself, forno one else--not even judy trenor--knew the

full magnitude of her folly. she was roused from these unprofitableconsiderations by a whispered request from her hostess, who drew her apart as theyleft the luncheon-table. "lily, dear, if you've nothing special todo, may i tell carry fisher that you intend to drive to the station and fetch gus?he will be back at four, and i know she has it in her mind to meet him. of course i'm very glad to have him amused,but i happen to know that she has bled him rather severely since she's been here, andshe is so keen about going to fetch him that i fancy she must have got a lot morebills this morning.

it seems to me," mrs. trenor feelinglyconcluded, "that most of her alimony is paid by other women's husbands!" miss bart, on her way to the station, hadleisure to muse over her friend's words, and their peculiar application to herself. why should she have to suffer for havingonce, for a few hours, borrowed money of an elderly cousin, when a woman like carryfisher could make a living unrebuked from the good-nature of her men friends and thetolerance of their wives? it all turned on the tiresome distinctionbetween what a married woman might, and a girl might not, do.

of course it was shocking for a marriedwoman to borrow money--and lily was expertly aware of the implication involved--but still, it was the mere malum prohibitum which the world decries but condones, and which, though it may bepunished by private vengeance, does not provoke the collective disapprobation ofsociety. to miss bart, in short, no suchopportunities were possible. she could of course borrow from her womenfriends--a hundred here or there, at the utmost--but they were more ready to give agown or a trinket, and looked a little askance when she hinted her preference fora cheque.

women are not generous lenders, and thoseamong whom her lot was cast were either in the same case as herself, or else too farremoved from it to understand its necessities. the result of her meditations was thedecision to join her aunt at richfield. she could not remain at bellomont withoutplaying bridge, and being involved in other expenses; and to continue her usual seriesof autumn visits would merely prolong the same difficulties. she had reached a point where abruptretrenchment was necessary, and the only cheap life was a dull life.she would start the next morning for

richfield. at the station she thought gus trenorseemed surprised, and not wholly unrelieved, to see her. she yielded up the reins of the lightrunabout in which she had driven over, and as he climbed heavily to her side, crushingher into a scant third of the seat, he said: "halloo! it isn't often you honour me.you must have been uncommonly hard up for something to do." the afternoon was warm, and propinquitymade her more than usually conscious that

he was red and massive, and that beads ofmoisture had caused the dust of the train to adhere unpleasantly to the broad expanse of cheek and neck which he turned to her;but she was aware also, from the look in his small dull eyes, that the contact withher freshness and slenderness was as agreeable to him as the sight of a coolingbeverage. the perception of this fact helped her toanswer gaily: "it's not often i have the chance. there are too many ladies to dispute theprivilege with me." "the privilege of driving me home?well, i'm glad you won the race, anyhow.

but i know what really happened--my wifesent you. now didn't she?" he had the dull man's unexpected flashes ofastuteness, and lily could not help joining in the laugh with which he had pounced onthe truth. "you see, judy thinks i'm the safest personfor you to be with; and she's quite right," she rejoined."oh, is she, though? if she is, it's because you wouldn't wasteyour time on an old hulk like me. we married men have to put up with what wecan get: all the prizes are for the clever chaps who've kept a free foot.

let me light a cigar, will you?i've had a beastly day of it." he drew up in the shade of the villagestreet, and passed the reins to her while he held a match to his cigar. the little flame under his hand cast adeeper crimson on his puffing face, and lily averted her eyes with a momentaryfeeling of repugnance. and yet some women thought him handsome! as she handed back the reins, she saidsympathetically: "did you have such a lot of tiresome things to do?""i should say so--rather!" trenor, who was seldom listened to, eitherby his wife or her friends, settled down

into the rare enjoyment of a confidentialtalk. "you don't know how a fellow has to hustleto keep this kind of thing going." he waved his whip in the direction of thebellomont acres, which lay outspread before them in opulent undulations. "judy has no idea of what she spends--notthat there isn't plenty to keep the thing going," he interrupted himself, "but a manhas got to keep his eyes open and pick up all the tips he can. my father and mother used to live likefighting-cocks on their income, and put by a good bit of it too--luckily for me--butat the pace we go now, i don't know where i

should be if it weren't for taking a flyernow and then. the women all think--i mean judy thinks--i've nothing to do but to go down town once a month and cut off coupons, but the truthis it takes a devilish lot of hard work to keep the machinery running. not that i ought to complain to-day,though," he went on after a moment, "for i did a very neat stroke of business, thanksto stepney's friend rosedale: by the way, miss lily, i wish you'd try to persuadejudy to be decently civil to that chap. he's going to be rich enough to buy us allout one of these days, and if she'd only ask him to dine now and then i could getalmost anything out of him.

the man is mad to know the people who don'twant to know him, and when a fellow's in that state there is nothing he won't do forthe first woman who takes him up." lily hesitated a moment. the first part of her companion's discoursehad started an interesting train of thought, which was rudely interrupted bythe mention of mr. rosedale's name. she uttered a faint protest. "but you know jack did try to take himabout, and he was impossible." "oh, hang it--because he's fat and shiny,and has a sloppy manner! well, all i can say is that the people whoare clever enough to be civil to him now

will make a mighty good thing of it. a few years from now he'll be in it whetherwe want him or not, and then he won't be giving away a half-a-million tip for adinner." lily's mind had reverted from the intrusivepersonality of mr. rosedale to the train of thought set in motion by trenor's firstwords. this vast mysterious wall street world of"tips" and "deals"--might she not find in it the means of escape from her drearypredicament? she had often heard of women making moneyin this way through their friends: she had no more notion than most of her sex of theexact nature of the transaction, and its

vagueness seemed to diminish itsindelicacy. she could not, indeed, imagine herself, inany extremity, stooping to extract a "tip" from mr. rosedale; but at her side was aman in possession of that precious commodity, and who, as the husband of her dearest friend, stood to her in a relationof almost fraternal intimacy. in her inmost heart lily knew it was not byappealing to the fraternal instinct that she was likely to move gus trenor; but thisway of explaining the situation helped to drape its crudity, and she was always scrupulous about keeping up appearances toherself.

her personal fastidiousness had a moralequivalent, and when she made a tour of inspection in her own mind there werecertain closed doors she did not open. as they reached the gates of bellomont sheturned to trenor with a smile. "the afternoon is so perfect--don't youwant to drive me a little farther? i've been rather out of spirits all day,and it's so restful to be away from people, with some one who won't mind if i'm alittle dull." she looked so plaintively lovely as sheproffered the request, so trustfully sure of his sympathy and understanding, thattrenor felt himself wishing that his wife could see how other women treated him--not

battered wire-pullers like mrs. fisher, buta girl that most men would have given their boots to get such a look from."out of spirits? why on earth should you ever be out ofspirits? is your last box of doucet dresses afailure, or did judy rook you out of everything at bridge last night?" lily shook her head with a sigh."i have had to give up doucet; and bridge too--i can't afford it. in fact i can't afford any of the things myfriends do, and i am afraid judy often thinks me a bore because i don't play cardsany longer, and because i am not as smartly

dressed as the other women. but you will think me a bore too if i talkto you about my worries, and i only mention them because i want you to do me a favour--the very greatest of favours." her eyes sought his once more, and shesmiled inwardly at the tinge of apprehension that she read in them. "why, of course--if it's anything i canmanage----" he broke off, and she guessed that his enjoyment was disturbed by theremembrance of mrs. fisher's methods. "the greatest of favours," she rejoinedgently. "the fact is, judy is angry with me, and iwant you to make my peace."

"angry with you? oh, come, nonsense----" his relief brokethrough in a laugh. "why, you know she's devoted to you.""she is the best friend i have, and that is why i mind having to vex her. but i daresay you know what she has wantedme to do. she has set her heart--poor dear--on mymarrying--marrying a great deal of money." she paused with a slight falter ofembarrassment, and trenor, turning abruptly, fixed on her a look of growingintelligence. "a great deal of money?

oh, by jove--you don't mean gryce?what--you do? oh, no, of course i won't mention it--youcan trust me to keep my mouth shut--but gryce--good lord, gryce! did judy really think you could bringyourself to marry that portentous little ass?but you couldn't, eh? and so you gave him the sack, and that'sthe reason why he lit out by the first train this morning?" he leaned back, spreading himself fartheracross the seat, as if dilated by the joyful sense of his own discernment."how on earth could judy think you would do

such a thing? i could have told her you'd never put upwith such a little milksop!" lily sighed more deeply. "i sometimes think," she murmured, "thatmen understand a woman's motives better than other women do.""some men--i'm certain of it! i could have told judy," he repeated,exulting in the implied superiority over his wife. "i thought you would understand; that's whyi wanted to speak to you," miss bart rejoined."i can't make that kind of marriage; it's

impossible. but neither can i go on living as all thewomen in my set do. i am almost entirely dependent on my aunt,and though she is very kind to me she makes me no regular allowance, and lately i'velost money at cards, and i don't dare tell her about it. i have paid my card debts, of course, butthere is hardly anything left for my other expenses, and if i go on with my presentlife i shall be in horrible difficulties. i have a tiny income of my own, but i'mafraid it's badly invested, for it seems to bring in less every year, and i am soignorant of money matters that i don't know

if my aunt's agent, who looks after it, isa good adviser." she paused a moment, and added in a lightertone: "i didn't mean to bore you with all this, but i want your help in making judyunderstand that i can't, at present, go on living as one must live among you all. i am going away tomorrow to join my aunt atrichfield, and i shall stay there for the rest of the autumn, and dismiss my maid andlearn how to mend my own clothes." at this picture of loveliness in distress,the pathos of which was heightened by the light touch with which it was drawn, amurmur of indignant sympathy broke from trenor.

twenty-four hours earlier, if his wife hadconsulted him on the subject of miss bart's future, he would have said that a girl withextravagant tastes and no money had better marry the first rich man she could get; but with the subject of discussion at his side,turning to him for sympathy, making him feel that he understood her better than herdearest friends, and confirming the assurance by the appeal of her exquisite nearness, he was ready to swear that such amarriage was a desecration, and that, as a man of honour, he was bound to do all hecould to protect her from the results of her disinterestedness.

this impulse was reinforced by thereflection that if she had married gryce she would have been surrounded by flatteryand approval, whereas, having refused to sacrifice herself to expediency, she was left to bear the whole cost of herresistance. hang it, if he could find a way out of suchdifficulties for a professional sponge like carry fisher, who was simply a mental habitcorresponding to the physical titillations of the cigarette or the cock-tail, he could surely do as much for a girl who appealedto his highest sympathies, and who brought her troubles to him with the trustfulnessof a child.

trenor and miss bart prolonged their drivetill long after sunset; and before it was over he had tried, with some show ofsuccess, to prove to her that, if she would only trust him, he could make a handsome sum of money for her without endangeringthe small amount she possessed. she was too genuinely ignorant of themanipulations of the stock-market to understand his technical explanations, oreven perhaps to perceive that certain points in them were slurred; the haziness enveloping the transaction served as a veilfor her embarrassment, and through the general blur her hopes dilated like lampsin a fog.

she understood only that her modestinvestments were to be mysteriously multiplied without risk to herself; and theassurance that this miracle would take place within a short time, that there would be no tedious interval for suspense andreaction, relieved her of her lingering scruples. again she felt the lightening of her load,and with it the release of repressed activities. her immediate worries conjured, it was easyto resolve that she would never again find herself in such straits, and as the need ofeconomy and self-denial receded from her

foreground she felt herself ready to meetany other demand which life might make. even the immediate one of letting trenor,as they drove homeward, lean a little nearer and rest his hand reassuringly onhers, cost her only a momentary shiver of reluctance. it was part of the game to make him feelthat her appeal had been an uncalculated impulse, provoked by the liking heinspired; and the renewed sense of power in handling men, while it consoled her wounded vanity, helped also to obscure the thoughtof the claim at which his manner hinted. he was a coarse dull man who, under all hisshow of authority, was a mere supernumerary

in the costly show for which his moneypaid: surely, to a clever girl, it would be easy to hold him by his vanity, and so keepthe obligation on his side. chapter 8 the first thousand dollar cheque which lilyreceived with a blotted scrawl from gus trenor strengthened her self-confidence inthe exact degree to which it effaced her debts. the transaction had justified itself by itsresults: she saw now how absurd it would have been to let any primitive scrupledeprive her of this easy means of appeasing her creditors.

lily felt really virtuous as she dispensedthe sum in sops to her tradesmen, and the fact that a fresh order accompanied eachpayment did not lessen her sense of disinterestedness. how many women, in her place, would havegiven the orders without making the payment!she had found it reassuringly easy to keep trenor in a good humour. to listen to his stories, to receive hisconfidences and laugh at his jokes, seemed for the moment all that was required ofher, and the complacency with which her hostess regarded these attentions freedthem of the least hint of ambiguity.

mrs. trenor evidently assumed that lily'sgrowing intimacy with her husband was simply an indirect way of returning her ownkindness. "i'm so glad you and gus have become suchgood friends," she said approvingly. "it's too delightful of you to be so niceto him, and put up with all his tiresome stories. i know what they are, because i had tolisten to them when we were engaged--i'm sure he is telling the same ones still. and now i shan't always have to be askingcarry fisher here to keep him in a good- humour.she's a perfect vulture, you know; and she

hasn't the least moral sense. she is always getting gus to speculate forher, and i'm sure she never pays when she loses." miss bart could shudder at this state ofthings without the embarrassment of a personal application.her own position was surely quite different. there could be no question of her notpaying when she lost, since trenor had assured her that she was certain not tolose. in sending her the cheque he had explainedthat he had made five thousand for her out

of rosedale's "tip," and had put fourthousand back in the same venture, as there was the promise of another "big rise"; she understood therefore that he was nowspeculating with her own money, and that she consequently owed him no more than thegratitude which such a trifling service demanded. she vaguely supposed that, to raise thefirst sum, he had borrowed on her securities; but this was a point over whichher curiosity did not linger. it was concentrated, for the moment, on theprobable date of the next "big rise." the news of this event was received by hersome weeks later, on the occasion of jack

stepney's marriage to miss van osburgh. as a cousin of the bridegroom, miss barthad been asked to act as bridesmaid; but she had declined on the plea that, sinceshe was much taller than the other attendant virgins, her presence might marthe symmetry of the group. the truth was, she had attended too manybrides to the altar: when next seen there she meant to be the chief figure in theceremony. she knew the pleasantries made at theexpense of young girls who have been too long before the public, and she wasresolved to avoid such assumptions of youthfulness as might lead people to thinkher older than she really was.

the van osburgh marriage was celebrated inthe village church near the paternal estate on the hudson. it was the "simple country wedding" towhich guests are convoyed in special trains, and from which the hordes of theuninvited have to be fended off by the intervention of the police. while these sylvan rites were taking place,in a church packed with fashion and festooned with orchids, the representativesof the press were threading their way, note-book in hand, through the labyrinth of wedding presents, and the agent of acinematograph syndicate was setting up his

apparatus at the church door. it was the kind of scene in which lily hadoften pictured herself as taking the principal part, and on this occasion thefact that she was once more merely a casual spectator, instead of the mystically veiled figure occupying the centre of attention,strengthened her resolve to assume the latter part before the year was over. the fact that her immediate anxieties wererelieved did not blind her to a possibility of their recurrence; it merely gave herenough buoyancy to rise once more above her doubts and feel a renewed faith in her

beauty, her power, and her general fitnessto attract a brilliant destiny. it could not be that one conscious of suchaptitudes for mastery and enjoyment was doomed to a perpetuity of failure; and hermistakes looked easily reparable in the light of her restored self-confidence. a special appositeness was given to thesereflections by the discovery, in a neighbouring pew, of the serious profileand neatly-trimmed beard of mr. percy gryce. there was something almost bridal in hisown aspect: his large white gardenia had a symbolic air that struck lily as a goodomen.

after all, seen in an assemblage of hiskind he was not ridiculous-looking: a friendly critic might have called hisheaviness weighty, and he was at his best in the attitude of vacant passivity whichbrings out the oddities of the restless. she fancied he was the kind of man whosesentimental associations would be stirred by the conventional imagery of a wedding,and she pictured herself, in the seclusion of the van osburgh conservatories, playing skillfully upon sensibilities thus preparedfor her touch. in fact, when she looked at the other womenabout her, and recalled the image she had brought away from her own glass, it did notseem as though any special skill would be

needed to repair her blunder and bring himonce more to her feet. the sight of selden's dark head, in a pewalmost facing her, disturbed for a moment the balance of her complacency. the rise of her blood as their eyes met wassucceeded by a contrary motion, a wave of resistance and withdrawal. she did not wish to see him again, notbecause she feared his influence, but because his presence always had the effectof cheapening her aspirations, of throwing her whole world out of focus. besides, he was a living reminder of theworst mistake in her career, and the fact

that he had been its cause did not softenher feelings toward him. she could still imagine an ideal state ofexistence in which, all else being superadded, intercourse with selden mightbe the last touch of luxury; but in the world as it was, such a privilege waslikely to cost more than it was worth. "lily, dear, i never saw you look solovely! you look as if something delightful hadjust happened to you!" the young lady who thus formulated heradmiration of her brilliant friend did not, in her own person, suggest such happypossibilities. miss gertrude farish, in fact, typified themediocre and the ineffectual.

if there were compensating qualities in herwide frank glance and the freshness of her smile, these were qualities which only thesympathetic observer would perceive before noticing that her eyes were of a workadaygrey and her lips without haunting curves. lily's own view of her wavered between pityfor her limitations and impatience at her cheerful acceptance of them. to miss bart, as to her mother,acquiescence in dinginess was evidence of stupidity; and there were moments when, inthe consciousness of her own power to look and to be so exactly what the occasion required, she almost felt that other girlswere plain and inferior from choice.

certainly no one need have confessed suchacquiescence in her lot as was revealed in the "useful" colour of gerty farish's gownand the subdued lines of her hat: it is almost as stupid to let your clothes betray that you know you are ugly as to have themproclaim that you think you are beautiful. of course, being fatally poor and dingy, itwas wise of gerty to have taken up philanthropy and symphony concerts; butthere was something irritating in her assumption that existence yielded no higher pleasures, and that one might get as muchinterest and excitement out of life in a cramped flat as in the splendours of thevan osburgh establishment.

today, however, her chirping enthusiasmsdid not irritate lily. they seemed only to throw her ownexceptionalness into becoming relief, and give a soaring vastness to her scheme oflife. "do let us go and take a peep at thepresents before everyone else leaves the dining-room!" suggested miss farish,linking her arm in her friend's. it was characteristic of her to take asentimental and unenvious interest in all the details of a wedding: she was the kindof person who always kept her handkerchief out during the service, and departedclutching a box of wedding-cake. "isn't everything beautifully done?" shepursued, as they entered the distant

drawing-room assigned to the display ofmiss van osburgh's bridal spoils. "i always say no one does things betterthan cousin grace! did you ever taste anything more deliciousthan that mousse of lobster with champagne sauce? i made up my mind weeks ago that i wouldn'tmiss this wedding, and just fancy how delightfully it all came about. when lawrence selden heard i was coming, heinsisted on fetching me himself and driving me to the station, and when we go back thisevening i am to dine with him at sherry's. i really feel as excited as if i weregetting married myself!"

lily smiled: she knew that selden hadalways been kind to his dull cousin, and she had sometimes wondered why he wasted somuch time in such an unremunerative manner; but now the thought gave her a vaguepleasure. "do you see him often?" she asked."yes; he is very good about dropping in on sundays. and now and then we do a play together; butlately i haven't seen much of him. he doesn't look well, and he seems nervousand unsettled. the dear fellow! i do wish he would marry some nice girl.i told him so today, but he said he didn't

care for the really nice ones, and theother kind didn't care for him--but that was just his joke, of course. he could never marry a girl who wasn'tnice. oh, my dear, did you ever see such pearls?" they had paused before the table on whichthe bride's jewels were displayed, and lily's heart gave an envious throb as shecaught the refraction of light from their surfaces--the milky gleam of perfectly matched pearls, the flash of rubiesrelieved against contrasting velvet, the intense blue rays of sapphires kindled intolight by surrounding diamonds: all these

precious tints enhanced and deepened by thevaried art of their setting. the glow of the stones warmed lily's veinslike wine. more completely than any other expressionof wealth they symbolized the life she longed to lead, the life of fastidiousaloofness and refinement in which every detail should have the finish of a jewel, and the whole form a harmonious setting toher own jewel-like rareness. "oh, lily, do look at this diamond pendant--it's as big as a dinner-plate! who can have given it?" miss farish bent short-sightedly over theaccompanying card.

"mr. simon rosedale.what, that horrid man? oh, yes--i remember he's a friend ofjack's, and i suppose cousin grace had to ask him here today; but she must ratherhate having to let gwen accept such a present from him." lily smiled. she doubted mrs. van osburgh's reluctance,but was aware of miss farish's habit of ascribing her own delicacies of feeling tothe persons least likely to be encumbered by them. "well, if gwen doesn't care to be seenwearing it she can always exchange it for

something else," she remarked."ah, here is something so much prettier," miss farish continued. "do look at this exquisite white sapphire.i'm sure the person who chose it must have taken particular pains.what is the name? percy gryce? ah, then i'm not surprised!"she smiled significantly as she replaced the card."of course you've heard that he's perfectly devoted to evie van osburgh? cousin grace is so pleased about it--it'squite a romance!

he met her first at the george dorsets',only about six weeks ago, and it's just the nicest possible marriage for dear evie. oh, i don't mean the money--of course shehas plenty of her own--but she's such a quiet stay-at-home kind of girl, and itseems he has just the same tastes; so they are exactly suited to each other." lily stood staring vacantly at the whitesapphire on its velvet bed. evie van osburgh and percy gryce?the names rang derisively through her brain. evie van osburgh?

the youngest, dumpiest, dullest of the fourdull and dumpy daughters whom mrs. van osburgh, with unsurpassed astuteness, had"placed" one by one in enviable niches of existence! ah, lucky girls who grow up in the shelterof a mother's love--a mother who knows how to contrive opportunities without concedingfavours, how to take advantage of propinquity without allowing appetite to bedulled by habit! the cleverest girl may miscalculate whereher own interests are concerned, may yield too much at one moment and withdraw too farat the next: it takes a mother's unerring vigilance and foresight to land her

daughters safely in the arms of wealth andsuitability. lily's passing light-heartedness sankbeneath a renewed sense of failure. life was too stupid, too blundering! why should percy gryce's millions be joinedto another great fortune, why should this clumsy girl be put in possession of powersshe would never know how to use? she was roused from these speculations by afamiliar touch on her arm, and turning saw gus trenor beside her.she felt a thrill of vexation: what right had he to touch her? luckily gerty farish had wandered off tothe next table, and they were alone.

trenor, looking stouter than ever in histight frock-coat, and unbecomingly flushed by the bridal libations, gazed at her withundisguised approval. "by jove, lily, you do look a stunner!" he had slipped insensibly into the use ofher christian name, and she had never found the right moment to correct him. besides, in her set all the men and womencalled each other by their christian names; it was only on trenor's lips that thefamiliar address had an unpleasant significance. "well," he continued, still joviallyimpervious to her annoyance, "have you made

up your mind which of these little trinketsyou mean to duplicate at tiffany's tomorrow? i've got a cheque for you in my pocket thatwill go a long way in that line!" lily gave him a startled look: his voicewas louder than usual, and the room was beginning to fill with people. but as her glance assured her that theywere still beyond ear-shot a sense of pleasure replaced her apprehension. "another dividend?" she asked, smiling anddrawing near him in the desire not to be overheard."well, not exactly: i sold out on the rise

and i've pulled off four thou' for you. not so bad for a beginner, eh?i suppose you'll begin to think you're a pretty knowing speculator.and perhaps you won't think poor old gus such an awful ass as some people do." "i think you the kindest of friends; but ican't thank you properly now." she let her eyes shine into his with a lookthat made up for the hand-clasp he would have claimed if they had been alone--andhow glad she was that they were not! the news filled her with the glow producedby a sudden cessation of physical pain. the world was not so stupid and blunderingafter all: now and then a stroke of luck

came to the unluckiest. at the thought her spirits began to rise:it was characteristic of her that one trifling piece of good fortune should givewings to all her hopes. instantly came the reflection that percygryce was not irretrievably lost; and she smiled to think of the excitement ofrecapturing him from evie van osburgh. what chance could such a simpleton haveagainst her if she chose to exert herself? she glanced about, hoping to catch aglimpse of gryce; but her eyes lit instead on the glossy countenance of mr. rosedale,who was slipping through the crowd with an air half obsequious, half obtrusive, as

though, the moment his presence wasrecognized, it would swell to the dimensions of the room. not wishing to be the means of effectingthis enlargement, lily quickly transferred her glance to trenor, to whom theexpression of her gratitude seemed not to have brought the complete gratification shehad meant it to give. "hang thanking me--i don't want to bethanked, but i should like the chance to say two words to you now and then," hegrumbled. "i thought you were going to spend thewhole autumn with us, and i've hardly laid eyes on you for the last month.why can't you come back to bellomont this

evening? we're all alone, and judy is as cross astwo sticks. do come and cheer a fellow up. if you say yes i'll run you over in themotor, and you can telephone your maid to bring your traps from town by the nexttrain." lily shook her head with a charmingsemblance of regret. "i wish i could--but it's quite impossible.my aunt has come back to town, and i must be with her for the next few days." "well, i've seen a good deal less of yousince we've got to be such pals than i used

to when you were judy's friend," hecontinued with unconscious penetration. "when i was judy's friend? am i not her friend still?really, you say the most absurd things! if i were always at bellomont you wouldtire of me much sooner than judy--but come and see me at my aunt's the next afternoonyou are in town; then we can have a nice quiet talk, and you can tell me how i hadbetter invest my fortune." it was true that, during the last three orfour weeks, she had absented herself from bellomont on the pretext of having othervisits to pay; but she now began to feel that the reckoning she had thus contrived

to evade had rolled up interest in theinterval. the prospect of the nice quiet talk did notappear as all-sufficing to trenor as she had hoped, and his brows continued to loweras he said: "oh, i don't know that i can promise you a fresh tip every day. but there's one thing you might do for me;and that is, just to be a little civil to rosedale. judy has promised to ask him to dine whenwe get to town, but i can't induce her to have him at bellomont, and if you would letme bring him up now it would make a lot of difference.

i don't believe two women have spoken tohim this afternoon, and i can tell you he's a chap it pays to be decent to." miss bart made an impatient movement, butsuppressed the words which seemed about to accompany it. after all, this was an unexpectedly easyway of acquitting her debt; and had she not reasons of her own for wishing to be civilto mr. rosedale? "oh, bring him by all means," she saidsmiling; "perhaps i can get a tip out of him on my own account." trenor paused abruptly, and his eyes fixedthemselves on hers with a look which made

her change colour. "i say, you know--you'll please rememberhe's a blooming bounder," he said; and with a slight laugh she turned toward the openwindow near which they had been standing. the throng in the room had increased, andshe felt a desire for space and fresh air. both of these she found on the terrace,where only a few men were lingering over cigarettes and liqueur, while scatteredcouples strolled across the lawn to the autumn-tinted borders of the flower-garden. as she emerged, a man moved toward her fromthe knot of smokers, and she found herself face to face with selden.

the stir of the pulses which his nearnessalways caused was increased by a slight sense of constraint. they had not met since their sundayafternoon walk at bellomont, and that episode was still so vivid to her that shecould hardly believe him to be less conscious of it. but his greeting expressed no more than thesatisfaction which every pretty woman expects to see reflected in masculine eyes;and the discovery, if distasteful to her vanity, was reassuring to her nerves. between the relief of her escape fromtrenor, and the vague apprehension of her

meeting with rosedale, it was pleasant torest a moment on the sense of complete understanding which lawrence selden'smanner always conveyed. "this is luck," he said smiling. "i was wondering if i should be able tohave a word with you before the special snatches us away. i came with gerty farish, and promised notto let her miss the train, but i am sure she is still extracting sentimental solacefrom the wedding presents. she appears to regard their number andvalue as evidence of the disinterested affection of the contracting parties."

there was not the least trace ofembarrassment in his voice, and as he spoke, leaning slightly against the jamb ofthe window, and letting his eyes rest on her in the frank enjoyment of her grace, she felt with a faint chill of regret thathe had gone back without an effort to the footing on which they had stood beforetheir last talk together. her vanity was stung by the sight of hisunscathed smile. she longed to be to him something more thana piece of sentient prettiness, a passing diversion to his eye and brain; and thelonging betrayed itself in her reply. "ah," she said, "i envy gerty that powershe has of dressing up with romance all our

ugly and prosaic arrangements! i have never recovered my self-respectsince you showed me how poor and unimportant my ambitions were."the words were hardly spoken when she realized their infelicity. it seemed to be her fate to appear at herworst to selden. "i thought, on the contrary," he returnedlightly, "that i had been the means of proving they were more important to youthan anything else." it was as if the eager current of her beinghad been checked by a sudden obstacle which drove it back upon itself.

she looked at him helplessly, like a hurtor frightened child: this real self of hers, which he had the faculty of drawingout of the depths, was so little accustomed to go alone! the appeal of her helplessness touched inhim, as it always did, a latent chord of inclination. it would have meant nothing to him todiscover that his nearness made her more brilliant, but this glimpse of a twilightmood to which he alone had the clue seemed once more to set him in a world apart withher. "at least you can't think worse things ofme than you say!" she exclaimed with a

trembling laugh; but before he couldanswer, the flow of comprehension between them was abruptly stayed by the reappearance of gus trenor, who advancedwith mr. rosedale in his wake. "hang it, lily, i thought you'd given methe slip: rosedale and i have been hunting all over for you!" his voice had a note of conjugalfamiliarity: miss bart fancied she detected in rosedale's eye a twinkling perception ofthe fact, and the idea turned her dislike of him to repugnance. she returned his profound bow with a slightnod, made more disdainful by the sense of

selden's surprise that she should numberrosedale among her acquaintances. trenor had turned away, and his companioncontinued to stand before miss bart, alert and expectant, his lips parted in a smileat whatever she might be about to say, and his very back conscious of the privilege ofbeing seen with her. it was the moment for tact; for the quickbridging over of gaps; but selden still leaned against the window, a detachedobserver of the scene, and under the spell of his observation lily felt herselfpowerless to exert her usual arts. the dread of selden's suspecting that therewas any need for her to propitiate such a man as rosedale checked the trivial phrasesof politeness.

rosedale still stood before her in anexpectant attitude, and she continued to face him in silence, her glance just levelwith his polished baldness. the look put the finishing touch to whather silence implied. he reddened slowly, shifting from one footto the other, fingered the plump black pearl in his tie, and gave a nervous twistto his moustache; then, running his eye over her, he drew back, and said, with a side-glance at selden: "upon my soul, inever saw a more ripping get-up. is that the last creation of the dress-maker you go to see at the benedick? if so, i wonder all the other women don'tgo to her too!"

the words were projected sharply againstlily's silence, and she saw in a flash that her own act had given them their emphasis. in ordinary talk they might have passedunheeded; but following on her prolonged pause they acquired a special meaning. she felt, without looking, that selden hadimmediately seized it, and would inevitably connect the allusion with her visit tohimself. the consciousness increased her irritationagainst rosedale, but also her feeling that now, if ever, was the moment to propitiatehim, hateful as it was to do so in selden's presence.

"how do you know the other women don't goto my dress-maker?" she returned. "you see i'm not afraid to give her addressto my friends!" her glance and accent so plainly includedrosedale in this privileged circle that his small eyes puckered with gratification, anda knowing smile drew up his moustache. "by jove, you needn't be!" he declared. "you could give 'em the whole outfit andwin at a canter!" "ah, that's nice of you; and it would benicer still if you would carry me off to a quiet corner, and get me a glass oflemonade or some innocent drink before we all have to rush for the train."

she turned away as she spoke, letting himstrut at her side through the gathering groups on the terrace, while every nerve inher throbbed with the consciousness of what selden must have thought of the scene. but under her angry sense of theperverseness of things, and the light surface of her talk with rosedale, a thirdidea persisted: she did not mean to leave without an attempt to discover the truthabout percy gryce. chance, or perhaps his own resolve, hadkept them apart since his hasty withdrawal from bellomont; but miss bart was an expertin making the most of the unexpected, and the distasteful incidents of the last few

minutes--the revelation to selden ofprecisely that part of her life which she most wished him to ignore--increased herlonging for shelter, for escape from such humiliating contingencies. any definite situation would be moretolerable than this buffeting of chances, which kept her in an attitude of uneasyalertness toward every possibility of life. indoors there was a general sense ofdispersal in the air, as of an audience gathering itself up for departure after theprincipal actors had left the stage; but among the remaining groups, lily could discover neither gryce nor the youngestmiss van osburgh.

that both should be missing struck her withforeboding; and she charmed mr. rosedale by proposing that they should make their wayto the conservatories at the farther end of the house. there were just enough people left in thelong suite of rooms to make their progress conspicuous, and lily was aware of beingfollowed by looks of amusement and interrogation, which glanced off as harmlessly from her indifference as fromher companion's self-satisfaction. she cared very little at that moment aboutbeing seen with rosedale: all her thoughts were centred on the object of her search.

the latter, however, was not discoverablein the conservatories, and lily, oppressed by a sudden conviction of failure, wascasting about for a way to rid herself of her now superfluous companion, when they came upon mrs. van osburgh, flushed andexhausted, but beaming with the consciousness of duty performed. she glanced at them a moment with thebenign but vacant eye of the tired hostess, to whom her guests have become merewhirling spots in a kaleidoscope of fatigue; then her attention became suddenly fixed, and she seized on miss bart with aconfidential gesture.

"my dear lily, i haven't had time for aword with you, and now i suppose you are just off. have you seen evie?she's been looking everywhere for you: she wanted to tell you her little secret; but idaresay you have guessed it already. the engagement is not to be announced tillnext week--but you are such a friend of mr. gryce's that they both wished you to be thefirst to know of their happiness." chapter 9 in mrs. peniston's youth, fashion hadreturned to town in october; therefore on the tenth day of the month the blinds ofher fifth avenue residence were drawn up,

and the eyes of the dying gladiator in bronze who occupied the drawing-room windowresumed their survey of that deserted thoroughfare. the first two weeks after her returnrepresented to mrs. peniston the domestic equivalent of a religious retreat. she "went through" the linen and blanketsin the precise spirit of the penitent exploring the inner folds of conscience;she sought for moths as the stricken soul seeks for lurking infirmities. the topmost shelf of every closet was madeto yield up its secret, cellar and coal-bin

were probed to their darkest depths and, asa final stage in the lustral rites, the entire house was swathed in penitentialwhite and deluged with expiatory soapsuds. it was on this phase of the proceedingsthat miss bart entered on the afternoon of her return from the van osburgh wedding. the journey back to town had not beencalculated to soothe her nerves. though evie van osburgh's engagement wasstill officially a secret, it was one of which the innumerable intimate friends ofthe family were already possessed; and the trainful of returning guests buzzed withallusions and anticipations. lily was acutely aware of her own part inthis drama of innuendo: she knew the exact

quality of the amusement the situationevoked. the crude forms in which her friends tooktheir pleasure included a loud enjoyment of such complications: the zest of surprisingdestiny in the act of playing a practical joke. lily knew well enough how to bear herselfin difficult situations. she had, to a shade, the exact mannerbetween victory and defeat: every insinuation was shed without an effort bythe bright indifference of her manner. but she was beginning to feel the strain ofthe attitude; the reaction was more rapid, and she lapsed to a deeper self-disgust.

as was always the case with her, this moralrepulsion found a physical outlet in a quickened distaste for her surroundings. she revolted from the complacent uglinessof mrs. peniston's black walnut, from the slippery gloss of the vestibule tiles, andthe mingled odour of sapolio and furniture- polish that met her at the door. the stairs were still carpetless, and onthe way up to her room she was arrested on the landing by an encroaching tide ofsoapsuds. gathering up her skirts, she drew asidewith an impatient gesture; and as she did so she had the odd sensation of havingalready found herself in the same situation

but in different surroundings. it seemed to her that she was againdescending the staircase from selden's rooms; and looking down to remonstrate withthe dispenser of the soapy flood, she found herself met by a lifted stare which had once before confronted her under similarcircumstances. it was the char-woman of the benedick who,resting on crimson elbows, examined her with the same unflinching curiosity, thesame apparent reluctance to let her pass. on this occasion, however, miss bart was onher own ground. "don't you see that i wish to go by?please move your pail," she said sharply.

the woman at first seemed not to hear;then, without a word of excuse, she pushed back her pail and dragged a wet floor-clothacross the landing, keeping her eyes fixed on lily while the latter swept by. it was insufferable that mrs. penistonshould have such creatures about the house; and lily entered her room resolved that thewoman should be dismissed that evening. mrs. peniston, however, was at the momentinaccessible to remonstrance: since early morning she had been shut up with her maid,going over her furs, a process which formed the culminating episode in the drama ofhousehold renovation. in the evening also lily found herselfalone, for her aunt, who rarely dined out,

had responded to the summons of a vanalstyne cousin who was passing through town. the house, in its state of unnaturalimmaculateness and order, was as dreary as a tomb, and as lily, turning from her briefrepast between shrouded sideboards, wandered into the newly-uncovered glare of the drawing-room she felt as though shewere buried alive in the stifling limits of mrs. peniston's existence.she usually contrived to avoid being at home during the season of domestic renewal. on the present occasion, however, a varietyof reasons had combined to bring her to

town; and foremost among them was the factthat she had fewer invitations than usual for the autumn. she had so long been accustomed to passfrom one country-house to another, till the close of the holidays brought her friendsto town, that the unfilled gaps of time confronting her produced a sharp sense ofwaning popularity. it was as she had said to selden--peoplewere tired of her. they would welcome her in a new character,but as miss bart they knew her by heart. she knew herself by heart too, and was sickof the old story. there were moments when she longed blindlyfor anything different, anything strange,

remote and untried; but the utmost reach ofher imagination did not go beyond picturing her usual life in a new setting. she could not figure herself as anywherebut in a drawing-room, diffusing elegance as a flower sheds perfume. meanwhile, as october advanced she had toface the alternative of returning to the trenors or joining her aunt in town. even the desolating dulness of new york inoctober, and the soapy discomforts of mrs. peniston's interior, seemed preferable towhat might await her at bellomont; and with an air of heroic devotion she announced her

intention of remaining with her aunt tillthe holidays. sacrifices of this nature are sometimesreceived with feelings as mixed as those which actuate them; and mrs. penistonremarked to her confidential maid that, if any of the family were to be with her at such a crisis (though for forty years shehad been thought competent to see to the hanging of her own curtains), she wouldcertainly have preferred miss grace to miss lily. grace stepney was an obscure cousin, ofadaptable manners and vicarious interests, who "ran in" to sit with mrs. peniston whenlily dined out too continuously; who played

bezique, picked up dropped stitches, read out the deaths from the times, andsincerely admired the purple satin drawing- room curtains, the dying gladiator in thewindow, and the seven-by-five painting of niagara which represented the one artisticexcess of mr. peniston's temperate career. mrs. peniston, under ordinarycircumstances, was as much bored by her excellent cousin as the recipient of suchservices usually is by the person who performs them. she greatly preferred the brilliant andunreliable lily, who did not know one end of a crochet-needle from the other, and hadfrequently wounded her susceptibilities by

suggesting that the drawing-room should be"done over." but when it came to hunting for missingnapkins, or helping to decide whether the backstairs needed re-carpeting, grace'sjudgment was certainly sounder than lily's: not to mention the fact that the latter resented the smell of beeswax and brownsoap, and behaved as though she thought a house ought to keep clean of itself,without extraneous assistance. seated under the cheerless blaze of thedrawing-room chandelier--mrs. peniston never lit the lamps unless there was"company"--lily seemed to watch her own figure retreating down vistas of neutral-

tinted dulness to a middle age like gracestepney's. when she ceased to amuse judy trenor andher friends she would have to fall back on amusing mrs. peniston; whichever way shelooked she saw only a future of servitude to the whims of others, never the possibility of asserting her own eagerindividuality. a ring at the door-bell, soundingemphatically through the empty house, roused her suddenly to the extent of herboredom. it was as though all the weariness of thepast months had culminated in the vacuity of that interminable evening.

if only the ring meant a summons from theouter world--a token that she was still remembered and wanted! after some delay a parlour-maid presentedherself with the announcement that there was a person outside who was asking to seemiss bart; and on lily's pressing for a more specific description, she added: "it's mrs. haffen, miss; she won't say whatshe wants." lily, to whom the name conveyed nothing,opened the door upon a woman in a battered bonnet, who stood firmly planted under thehall-light. the glare of the unshaded gas shonefamiliarly on her pock-marked face and the

reddish baldness visible through thinstrands of straw-coloured hair. lily looked at the char-woman in surprise. "do you wish to see me?" she asked."i should like to say a word to you, miss." the tone was neither aggressive norconciliatory: it revealed nothing of the speaker's errand. nevertheless, some precautionary instinctwarned lily to withdraw beyond ear-shot of the hovering parlour-maid. she signed to mrs. haffen to follow herinto the drawing-room, and closed the door when they had entered."what is it that you wish?" she enquired.

the char-woman, after the manner of herkind, stood with her arms folded in her shawl.unwinding the latter, she produced a small parcel wrapped in dirty newspaper. "i have something here that you might liketo see, miss bart." she spoke the name with an unpleasantemphasis, as though her knowing it made a part of her reason for being there. to lily the intonation sounded like athreat. "you have found something belonging to me?"she asked, extending her hand. mrs. haffen drew back.

"well, if it comes to that, i guess it'smine as much as anybody's," she returned. lily looked at her perplexedly. she was sure, now, that her visitor'smanner conveyed a threat; but, expert as she was in certain directions, there wasnothing in her experience to prepare her for the exact significance of the presentscene. she felt, however, that it must be ended aspromptly as possible. "i don't understand; if this parcel is notmine, why have you asked for me?" the woman was unabashed by the question. she was evidently prepared to answer it,but like all her class she had to go a long

way back to make a beginning, and it wasonly after a pause that she replied: "my husband was janitor to the benedick till the first of the month; since then he can'tget nothing to do." lily remained silent and she continued: "itwasn't no fault of our own, neither: the agent had another man he wanted the placefor, and we was put out, bag and baggage, just to suit his fancy. i had a long sickness last winter, and anoperation that ate up all we'd put by; and it's hard for me and the children, haffenbeing so long out of a job." after all, then, she had come only to askmiss bart to find a place for her husband;

or, more probably, to seek the young lady'sintervention with mrs. peniston. lily had such an air of always getting whatshe wanted that she was used to being appealed to as an intermediary, and,relieved of her vague apprehension, she took refuge in the conventional formula. "i am sorry you have been in trouble," shesaid. "oh, that we have, miss, and it's on'y justbeginning. if on'y we'd 'a got another situation--butthe agent, he's dead against us. it ain't no fault of ours, neither, but----" at this point lily's impatience overcameher.

"if you have anything to say to me----" sheinterposed. the woman's resentment of the rebuff seemedto spur her lagging ideas. "yes, miss; i'm coming to that," she said. she paused again, with her eyes on lily,and then continued, in a tone of diffuse narrative: "when we was at the benedick ihad charge of some of the gentlemen's rooms; leastways, i swep' 'em out onsaturdays. some of the gentlemen got the greatestsight of letters: i never saw the like of it. their waste-paper baskets 'd be fairlybrimming, and papers falling over on the

floor.maybe havin' so many is how they get so careless. some of 'em is worse than others.mr. selden, mr. lawrence selden, he was always one of the carefullest: burnt hisletters in winter, and tore 'em in little bits in summer. but sometimes he'd have so many he'd justbunch 'em together, the way the others did, and tear the lot through once--like this." while she spoke she had loosened the stringfrom the parcel in her hand, and now she drew forth a letter which she laid on thetable between miss bart and herself.

as she had said, the letter was torn intwo; but with a rapid gesture she laid the torn edges together and smoothed out thepage. a wave of indignation swept over lily. she felt herself in the presence ofsomething vile, as yet but dimly conjectured--the kind of vileness of whichpeople whispered, but which she had never thought of as touching her own life. she drew back with a motion of disgust, buther withdrawal was checked by a sudden discovery: under the glare of mrs.peniston's chandelier she had recognized the hand-writing of the letter.

it was a large disjointed hand, with aflourish of masculinity which but slightly disguised its rambling weakness, and thewords, scrawled in heavy ink on pale-tinted notepaper, smote on lily's ear as thoughshe had heard them spoken. at first she did not grasp the full importof the situation. she understood only that before her lay aletter written by bertha dorset, and addressed, presumably, to lawrence selden. there was no date, but the blackness of theink proved the writing to be comparatively recent. the packet in mrs. haffen's hand doubtlesscontained more letters of the same kind--a

dozen, lily conjectured from its thickness. the letter before her was short, but itsfew words, which had leapt into her brain before she was conscious of reading them,told a long history--a history over which, for the last four years, the friends of the writer had smiled and shrugged, viewing itmerely as one among the countless "good situations" of the mundane comedy. now the other side presented itself tolily, the volcanic nether side of the surface over which conjecture and innuendoglide so lightly till the first fissure turns their whisper to a shriek.

lily knew that there is nothing societyresents so much as having given its protection to those who have not known howto profit by it: it is for having betrayed its connivance that the body socialpunishes the offender who is found out. and in this case there was no doubt of theissue. the code of lily's world decreed that awoman's husband should be the only judge of her conduct: she was technically abovesuspicion while she had the shelter of his approval, or even of his indifference. but with a man of george dorset's temperthere could be no thought of condonation-- the possessor of his wife's letters couldoverthrow with a touch the whole structure

of her existence. and into what hands bertha dorset's secrethad been delivered! for a moment the irony of the coincidencetinged lily's disgust with a confused sense of triumph. but the disgust prevailed--all herinstinctive resistances, of taste, of training, of blind inherited scruples, roseagainst the other feeling. her strongest sense was one of personalcontamination. she moved away, as though to put as muchdistance as possible between herself and her visitor.

"i know nothing of these letters," shesaid; "i have no idea why you have brought them here."mrs. haffen faced her steadily. "i'll tell you why, miss. i brought 'em to you to sell, because iain't got no other way of raising money, and if we don't pay our rent by tomorrownight we'll be put out. i never done anythin' of the kind before,and if you'd speak to mr. selden or to mr. rosedale about getting haffen taken onagain at the benedick--i seen you talking to mr. rosedale on the steps that day youcome out of mr. selden's rooms----" the blood rushed to lily's forehead.she understood now--mrs. haffen supposed

her to be the writer of the letters. in the first leap of her anger she wasabout to ring and order the woman out; but an obscure impulse restrained her.the mention of selden's name had started a new train of thought. bertha dorset's letters were nothing toher--they might go where the current of chance carried them!but selden was inextricably involved in their fate. men do not, at worst, suffer much from suchexposure; and in this instance the flash of divination which had carried the meaning ofthe letters to lily's brain had revealed

also that they were appeals--repeated and therefore probably unanswered--for therenewal of a tie which time had evidently relaxed. nevertheless, the fact that thecorrespondence had been allowed to fall into strange hands would convict selden ofnegligence in a matter where the world holds it least pardonable; and there were graver risks to consider where a man ofdorset's ticklish balance was concerned. if she weighed all these things it wasunconsciously: she was aware only of feeling that selden would wish the lettersrescued, and that therefore she must obtain

possession of them. beyond that her mind did not travel. she had, indeed, a quick vision ofreturning the packet to bertha dorset, and of the opportunities the restitutionoffered; but this thought lit up abysses from which she shrank back ashamed. meanwhile mrs. haffen, prompt to perceiveher hesitation, had already opened the packet and ranged its contents on thetable. all the letters had been pieced togetherwith strips of thin paper. some were in small fragments, the othersmerely torn in half.

though there were not many, thus spread outthey nearly covered the table. lily's glance fell on a word here andthere--then she said in a low voice: "what do you wish me to pay you?" mrs. haffen's face reddened withsatisfaction. it was clear that the young lady was badlyfrightened, and mrs. haffen was the woman to make the most of such fears. anticipating an easier victory than she hadforeseen, she named an exorbitant sum. but miss bart showed herself a less readyprey than might have been expected from her imprudent opening.

she refused to pay the price named, andafter a moment's hesitation, met it by a counter-offer of half the amount.mrs. haffen immediately stiffened. her hand travelled toward the outspreadletters, and folding them slowly, she made as though to restore them to theirwrapping. "i guess they're worth more to you than tome, miss, but the poor has got to live as well as the rich," she observedsententiously. lily was throbbing with fear, but theinsinuation fortified her resistance. "you are mistaken," she said indifferently. "i have offered all i am willing to givefor the letters; but there may be other

ways of getting them." mrs. haffen raised a suspicious glance: shewas too experienced not to know that the traffic she was engaged in had perils asgreat as its rewards, and she had a vision of the elaborate machinery of revenge which a word of this commanding young lady'smight set in motion. she applied the corner of her shawl to hereyes, and murmured through it that no good came of bearing too hard on the poor, butthat for her part she had never been mixed up in such a business before, and that on her honour as a christian all she andhaffen had thought of was that the letters

mustn't go any farther. lily stood motionless, keeping betweenherself and the char-woman the greatest distance compatible with the need ofspeaking in low tones. the idea of bargaining for the letters wasintolerable to her, but she knew that, if she appeared to weaken, mrs. haffen wouldat once increase her original demand. she could never afterward recall how longthe duel lasted, or what was the decisive stroke which finally, after a lapse of timerecorded in minutes by the clock, in hours by the precipitate beat of her pulses, put her in possession of the letters; she knewonly that the door had finally closed, and

that she stood alone with the packet in herhand. she had no idea of reading the letters;even to unfold mrs. haffen's dirty newspaper would have seemed degrading.but what did she intend to do with its contents? the recipient of the letters had meant todestroy them, and it was her duty to carry out his intention. she had no right to keep them--to do so wasto lessen whatever merit lay in having secured their possession. but how destroy them so effectually thatthere should be no second risk of their

falling in such hands? mrs. peniston's icy drawing-room grateshone with a forbidding lustre: the fire, like the lamps, was never lit except whenthere was company. miss bart was turning to carry the lettersupstairs when she heard the opening of the outer door, and her aunt entered thedrawing-room. mrs. peniston was a small plump woman, witha colourless skin lined with trivial wrinkles. her grey hair was arranged with precision,and her clothes looked excessively new and yet slightly old-fashioned.

they were always black and tightly fitting,with an expensive glitter: she was the kind of woman who wore jet at breakfast. lily had never seen her when she was notcuirassed in shining black, with small tight boots, and an air of being packed andready to start; yet she never started. she looked about the drawing-room with anexpression of minute scrutiny. "i saw a streak of light under one of theblinds as i drove up: it's extraordinary that i can never teach that woman to drawthem down evenly." having corrected the irregularity, sheseated herself on one of the glossy purple arm-chairs; mrs. peniston always sat on achair, never in it.

then she turned her glance to miss bart. "my dear, you look tired; i suppose it'sthe excitement of the wedding. cornelia van alstyne was full of it: mollywas there, and gerty farish ran in for a minute to tell us about it. i think it was odd, their serving melonsbefore the consomme: a wedding breakfast should always begin with consomme.molly didn't care for the bridesmaids' dresses. she had it straight from julia melson thatthey cost three hundred dollars apiece at celeste's, but she says they didn't lookit.

i'm glad you decided not to be abridesmaid; that shade of salmon-pink wouldn't have suited you." mrs. peniston delighted in discussing theminutest details of festivities in which she had not taken part. nothing would have induced her to undergothe exertion and fatigue of attending the van osburgh wedding, but so great was herinterest in the event that, having heard two versions of it, she now prepared toextract a third from her niece. lily, however, had been deplorably carelessin noting the particulars of the entertainment.

she had failed to observe the colour ofmrs. van osburgh's gown, and could not even say whether the old van osburgh sevres hadbeen used at the bride's table: mrs. peniston, in short, found that she was of more service as a listener than as anarrator. "really, lily, i don't see why you took thetrouble to go to the wedding, if you don't remember what happened or whom you sawthere. when i was a girl i used to keep the menuof every dinner i went to, and write the names of the people on the back; and inever threw away my cotillion favours till after your uncle's death, when it seemed

unsuitable to have so many coloured thingsabout the house. i had a whole closet-full, i remember; andi can tell to this day what balls i got them at. molly van alstyne reminds me of what i wasat that age; it's wonderful how she notices. she was able to tell her mother exactly howthe wedding-dress was cut, and we knew at once, from the fold in the back, that itmust have come from paquin." mrs. peniston rose abruptly, and, advancingto the ormolu clock surmounted by a helmeted minerva, which throned on thechimney-piece between two malachite vases,

passed her lace handkerchief between thehelmet and its visor. "i knew it--the parlour-maid never duststhere!" she exclaimed, triumphantly displaying a minute spot on thehandkerchief; then, reseating herself, she went on: "molly thought mrs. dorset thebest-dressed woman at the wedding. i've no doubt her dress did cost more thanany one else's, but i can't quite like the idea--a combination of sable and point demilan. it seems she goes to a new man in paris,who won't take an order till his client has spent a day with him at his villa atneuilly. he says he must study his subject's homelife--a most peculiar arrangement, i should

say! but mrs. dorset told molly about itherself: she said the villa was full of the most exquisite things and she was reallysorry to leave. molly said she never saw her lookingbetter; she was in tremendous spirits, and said she had made a match between evie vanosburgh and percy gryce. she really seems to have a very goodinfluence on young men. i hear she is interesting herself now inthat silly silverton boy, who has had his head turned by carry fisher, and has beengambling so dreadfully. well, as i was saying, evie is reallyengaged: mrs. dorset had her to stay with

percy gryce, and managed it all, and gracevan osburgh is in the seventh heaven--she had almost despaired of marrying evie." mrs. peniston again paused, but this timeher scrutiny addressed itself, not to the furniture, but to her niece. "cornelia van alstyne was so surprised: shehad heard that you were to marry young she saw the wetheralls just after they hadstopped with you at bellomont, and alice wetherall was quite sure there was anengagement. she said that when mr. gryce leftunexpectedly one morning, they all thought he had rushed to town for the ring."lily rose and moved toward the door.

"i believe i am tired: i think i will go tobed," she said; and mrs. peniston, suddenly distracted by the discovery that the easelsustaining the late mr. peniston's crayon- portrait was not exactly in line with the sofa in front of it, presented an absent-minded brow to her kiss. in her own room lily turned up the gas-jetand glanced toward the grate. it was as brilliantly polished as the onebelow, but here at least she could burn a few papers with less risk of incurring heraunt's disapproval. she made no immediate motion to do so,however, but dropping into a chair looked wearily about her.

her room was large and comfortably-furnished--it was the envy and admiration of poor grace stepney, who boarded; but,contrasted with the light tints and luxurious appointments of the guest-rooms where so many weeks of lily's existencewere spent, it seemed as dreary as a prison. the monumental wardrobe and bedstead ofblack walnut had migrated from mr. peniston's bedroom, and the magenta "flock"wall-paper, of a pattern dear to the early 'sixties, was hung with large steelengravings of an anecdotic character. lily had tried to mitigate this charmlessbackground by a few frivolous touches, in

the shape of a lace-decked toilet table anda little painted desk surmounted by photographs; but the futility of the attempt struck her as she looked about theroom. what a contrast to the subtle elegance ofthe setting she had pictured for herself-- an apartment which should surpass thecomplicated luxury of her friends' surroundings by the whole extent of that artistic sensibility which made her feelherself their superior; in which every tint and line should combine to enhance herbeauty and give distinction to her leisure! once more the haunting sense of physicalugliness was intensified by her mental

depression, so that each piece of theoffending furniture seemed to thrust forth its most aggressive angle. her aunt's words had told her nothing new;but they had revived the vision of bertha dorset, smiling, flattered, victorious,holding her up to ridicule by insinuations intelligible to every member of theirlittle group. the thought of the ridicule struck deeperthan any other sensation: lily knew every turn of the allusive jargon which couldflay its victims without the shedding of blood. her cheek burned at the recollection, andshe rose and caught up the letters.

she no longer meant to destroy them: thatintention had been effaced by the quick corrosion of mrs. peniston's words. instead, she approached her desk, andlighting a taper, tied and sealed the packet; then she opened the wardrobe, drewout a despatch-box, and deposited the letters within it. as she did so, it struck her with a flashof irony that she was indebted to gus trenor for the means of buying them. chapter 10 the autumn dragged on monotonously.

miss bart had received one or two notesfrom judy trenor, reproaching her for not returning to bellomont; but she repliedevasively, alleging the obligation to remain with her aunt. in truth, however, she was fast wearying ofher solitary existence with mrs. peniston, and only the excitement of spending hernewly-acquired money lightened the dulness of the days. all her life lily had seen money go out asquickly as it came in, and whatever theories she cultivated as to the prudenceof setting aside a part of her gains, she had unhappily no saving vision of the risksof the opposite course.

it was a keen satisfaction to feel that,for a few months at least, she would be independent of her friends' bounty, thatshe could show herself abroad without wondering whether some penetrating eye would detect in her dress the traces ofjudy trenor's refurbished splendour. the fact that the money freed hertemporarily from all minor obligations obscured her sense of the greater one itrepresented, and having never before known what it was to command so large a sum, she lingered delectably over the amusement ofspending it. it was on one of these occasions that,leaving a shop where she had spent an hour

of deliberation over a dressing-case of themost complicated elegance, she ran across miss farish, who had entered the same establishment with the modest object ofhaving her watch repaired. lily was feeling unusually virtuous. she had decided to defer the purchase ofthe dressing-case till she should receive the bill for her new opera-cloak, and theresolve made her feel much richer than when she had entered the shop. in this mood of self-approval she had asympathetic eye for others, and she was struck by her friend's air of dejection.

miss farish, it appeared, had just left thecommittee-meeting of a struggling charity in which she was interested. the object of the association was toprovide comfortable lodgings, with a reading-room and other modest distractions,where young women of the class employed in down town offices might find a home when out of work, or in need of rest, and thefirst year's financial report showed so deplorably small a balance that missfarish, who was convinced of the urgency of the work, felt proportionately discouragedby the small amount of interest it aroused. the other-regarding sentiments had not beencultivated in lily, and she was often bored

by the relation of her friend'sphilanthropic efforts, but today her quick dramatizing fancy seized on the contrast between her own situation and thatrepresented by some of gerty's "cases." these were young girls, like herself; someperhaps pretty, some not without a trace of her finer sensibilities. she pictured herself leading such a life astheirs--a life in which achievement seemed as squalid as failure--and the vision madeher shudder sympathetically. the price of the dressing-case was still inher pocket; and drawing out her little gold purse she slipped a liberal fraction of theamount into miss farish's hand.

the satisfaction derived from this act wasall that the most ardent moralist could have desired. lily felt a new interest in herself as aperson of charitable instincts: she had never before thought of doing good with thewealth she had so often dreamed of possessing, but now her horizon was enlarged by the vision of a prodigalphilanthropy. moreover, by some obscure process of logic,she felt that her momentary burst of generosity had justified all previousextravagances, and excused any in which she might subsequently indulge.

miss farish's surprise and gratitudeconfirmed this feeling, and lily parted from her with a sense of self-esteem whichshe naturally mistook for the fruits of altruism. about this time she was farther cheered byan invitation to spend the thanksgiving week at a camp in the adirondacks. the invitation was one which, a yearearlier, would have provoked a less ready response, for the party, though organizedby mrs. fisher, was ostensibly given by a lady of obscure origin and indomitable social ambitions, whose acquaintance lilyhad hitherto avoided.

now, however, she was disposed to coincidewith mrs. fisher's view, that it didn't matter who gave the party, as long asthings were well done; and doing things well (under competent direction) was mrs.wellington bry's strong point. the lady (whose consort was known as"welly" bry on the stock exchange and in sporting circles) had already sacrificedone husband, and sundry minor considerations, to her determination to get on; and, having obtained a hold on carryfisher, she was astute enough to perceive the wisdom of committing herself entirelyto that lady's guidance. everything, accordingly, was well done, forthere was no limit to mrs. fisher's

prodigality when she was not spending herown money, and as she remarked to her pupil, a good cook was the bestintroduction to society. if the company was not as select as thecuisine, the welly brys at least had the satisfaction of figuring for the first timein the society columns in company with one or two noticeable names; and foremost amongthese was of course miss bart's. the young lady was treated by her hostswith corresponding deference; and she was in the mood when such attentions areacceptable, whatever their source. mrs. bry's admiration was a mirror in whichlily's self-complacency recovered its lost outline.

no insect hangs its nest on threads asfrail as those which will sustain the weight of human vanity; and the sense ofbeing of importance among the insignificant was enough to restore to miss bart thegratifying consciousness of power. if these people paid court to her it provedthat she was still conspicuous in the world to which they aspired; and she was notabove a certain enjoyment in dazzling them by her fineness, in developing theirpuzzled perception of her superiorities. perhaps, however, her enjoyment proceededmore than she was aware from the physical stimulus of the excursion, the challenge ofcrisp cold and hard exercise, the responsive thrill of her body to theinfluences of the winter woods.

she returned to town in a glow ofrejuvenation, conscious of a clearer colour in her cheeks, a fresh elasticity in hermuscles. the future seemed full of a vague promise,and all her apprehensions were swept out of sight on the buoyant current of her mood. a few days after her return to town she hadthe unpleasant surprise of a visit from mr. he came late, at the confidential hour whenthe tea-table still lingers by the fire in friendly expectancy; and his manner showeda readiness to adapt itself to the intimacy of the occasion. lily, who had a vague sense of his beingsomehow connected with her lucky

speculations, tried to give him the welcomehe expected; but there was something in the quality of his geniality which chilled her own, and she was conscious of marking eachstep in their acquaintance by a fresh blunder. mr. rosedale--making himself promptly athome in an adjoining easy-chair, and sipping his tea critically, with thecomment: "you ought to go to my man for something really good"--appeared totally unconscious of the repugnance which kepther in frozen erectness behind the urn. it was perhaps her very manner of holdingherself aloof that appealed to his

collector's passion for the rare andunattainable. he gave, at any rate, no sign of resentingit and seemed prepared to supply in his own manner all the ease that was lacking inhers. his object in calling was to ask her to goto the opera in his box on the opening night, and seeing her hesitate he saidpersuasively: "mrs. fisher is coming, and i've secured a tremendous admirer of yours, who'll never forgive me if you don'taccept." as lily's silence left him with thisallusion on his hands, he added with a confidential smile: "gus trenor haspromised to come to town on purpose.

i fancy he'd go a good deal farther for thepleasure of seeing you." miss bart felt an inward motion ofannoyance: it was distasteful enough to hear her name coupled with trenor's, and onrosedale's lips the allusion was peculiarly unpleasant. "the trenors are my best friends--i thinkwe should all go a long way to see each other," she said, absorbing herself in thepreparation of fresh tea. her visitor's smile grew increasinglyintimate. "well, i wasn't thinking of mrs. trenor atthe moment--they say gus doesn't always, you know."

then, dimly conscious that he had notstruck the right note, he added, with a well-meant effort at diversion: "how's yourluck been going in wall street, by the way? i hear gus pulled off a nice little pilefor you last month." lily put down the tea-caddy with an abruptgesture. she felt that her hands were trembling, andclasped them on her knee to steady them; but her lip trembled too, and for a momentshe was afraid the tremor might communicate itself to her voice. when she spoke, however, it was in a toneof perfect lightness. "ah, yes--i had a little bit of money toinvest, and mr. trenor, who helps me about

such matters, advised my putting it instocks instead of a mortgage, as my aunt's agent wanted me to do; and as it happened, i made a lucky 'turn'--is that what youcall it? for you make a great many yourself, ibelieve." she was smiling back at him now, relaxingthe tension of her attitude, and admitting him, by imperceptible gradations of glanceand manner, a step farther toward intimacy. the protective instinct always nerved herto successful dissimulation, and it was not the first time she had used her beauty todivert attention from an inconvenient topic.

when mr. rosedale took leave, he carriedwith him, not only her acceptance of his invitation, but a general sense of havingcomported himself in a way calculated to advance his cause. he had always believed he had a light touchand a knowing way with women, and the prompt manner in which miss bart (as hewould have phrased it) had "come into line," confirmed his confidence in hispowers of handling this skittish sex. her way of glossing over the transactionwith trenor he regarded at once as a tribute to his own acuteness, and aconfirmation of his suspicions. the girl was evidently nervous, and mr.rosedale, if he saw no other means of

advancing his acquaintance with her, wasnot above taking advantage of her nervousness. he left lily to a passion of disgust andfear. it seemed incredible that gus trenor shouldhave spoken of her to rosedale. with all his faults, trenor had thesafeguard of his traditions, and was the less likely to overstep them because theywere so purely instinctive. but lily recalled with a pang that therewere convivial moments when, as judy had confided to her, gus "talked foolishly": inone of these, no doubt, the fatal word had slipped from him.

as for rosedale, she did not, after thefirst shock, greatly care what conclusions he had drawn. though usually adroit enough where her owninterests were concerned, she made the mistake, not uncommon to persons in whomthe social habits are instinctive, of supposing that the inability to acquirethem quickly implies a general dulness. because a blue-bottle bangs irrationallyagainst a window-pane, the drawing-room naturalist may forget that under lessartificial conditions it is capable of measuring distances and drawing conclusions with all the accuracy needful to itswelfare; and the fact that mr. rosedale's

drawing-room manner lacked perspective madelily class him with trenor and the other dull men she knew, and assume that a little flattery, and the occasional acceptance ofhis hospitality, would suffice to render him innocuous. however, there could be no doubt of theexpediency of showing herself in his box on the opening night of the opera; and afterall, since judy trenor had promised to take him up that winter, it was as well to reap the advantage of being first in the field. for a day or two after rosedale's visit,lily's thoughts were dogged by the

consciousness of trenor's shadowy claim,and she wished she had a clearer notion of the exact nature of the transaction which seemed to have put her in his power; buther mind shrank from any unusual application, and she was always helplesslypuzzled by figures. moreover she had not seen trenor since theday of the van osburgh wedding, and in his continued absence the trace of rosedale'swords was soon effaced by other impressions. when the opening night of the opera came,her apprehensions had so completely vanished that the sight of trenor's ruddycountenance in the back of mr. rosedale's

box filled her with a sense of pleasantreassurance. lily had not quite reconciled herself tothe necessity of appearing as rosedale's guest on so conspicuous an occasion, and itwas a relief to find herself supported by any one of her own set--for mrs. fisher's social habits were too promiscuous for herpresence to justify miss bart's. to lily, always inspirited by the prospectof showing her beauty in public, and conscious tonight of all the addedenhancements of dress, the insistency of trenor's gaze merged itself in the general stream of admiring looks of which she feltherself the centre.

ah, it was good to be young, to be radiant,to glow with the sense of slenderness, strength and elasticity, of well-poisedlines and happy tints, to feel one's self lifted to a height apart by that incommunicable grace which is the bodilycounterpart of genius! all means seemed justifiable to attain suchan end, or rather, by a happy shifting of lights with which practice had familiarizedmiss bart, the cause shrank to a pin-point in the general brightness of the effect. but brilliant young ladies, a littleblinded by their own effulgence, are apt to forget that the modest satellite drowned intheir light is still performing its own

revolutions and generating heat at its ownrate. if lily's poetic enjoyment of the momentwas undisturbed by the base thought that her gown and opera cloak had beenindirectly paid for by gus trenor, the latter had not sufficient poetry in his composition to lose sight of these prosaicfacts. he knew only that he had never seen lilylook smarter in her life, that there wasn't a woman in the house who showed off goodclothes as she did, and that hitherto he, to whom she owed the opportunity of making this display, had reaped no return beyondthat of gazing at her in company with

several hundred other pairs of eyes. it came to lily therefore as a disagreeablesurprise when, in the back of the box, where they found themselves alone betweentwo acts, trenor said, without preamble, and in a tone of sulky authority: "look here, lily, how is a fellow ever to seeanything of you? i'm in town three or four days in the week,and you know a line to the club will always find me, but you don't seem to remember myexistence nowadays unless you want to get a tip out of me." the fact that the remark was in distinctlybad taste did not make it any easier to

answer, for lily was vividly aware that itwas not the moment for that drawing up of her slim figure and surprised lifting of the brows by which she usually quelledincipient signs of familiarity. "i'm very much flattered by your wanting tosee me," she returned, essaying lightness instead, "but, unless you have mislaid myaddress, it would have been easy to find me any afternoon at my aunt's--in fact, irather expected you to look me up there." if she hoped to mollify him by this lastconcession the attempt was a failure, for he only replied, with the familiar loweringof the brows that made him look his dullest when he was angry: "hang going to your

aunt's, and wasting the afternoon listeningto a lot of other chaps talking to you! you know i'm not the kind to sit in a crowdand jaw--i'd always rather clear out when that sort of circus is going on. but why can't we go off somewhere on alittle lark together--a nice quiet little expedition like that drive at bellomont,the day you met me at the station?" he leaned unpleasantly close in order toconvey this suggestion, and she fancied she caught a significant aroma which explainedthe dark flush on his face and the glistening dampness of his forehead. the idea that any rash answer might provokean unpleasant outburst tempered her disgust

with caution, and she answered with alaugh: "i don't see how one can very well take country drives in town, but i am not always surrounded by an admiring throng,and if you will let me know what afternoon you are coming i will arrange things sothat we can have a nice quiet talk." "hang talking! that's what you always say," returnedtrenor, whose expletives lacked variety. "you put me off with that at the vanosburgh wedding--but the plain english of it is that, now you've got what you wantedout of me, you'd rather have any other fellow about."

his voice had risen sharply with the lastwords, and lily flushed with annoyance, but she kept command of the situation and laida persuasive hand on his arm. "don't be foolish, gus; i can't let youtalk to me in that ridiculous way. if you really want to see me, why shouldn'twe take a walk in the park some afternoon? i agree with you that it's amusing to berustic in town, and if you like i'll meet you there, and we'll go and feed thesquirrels, and you shall take me out on the lake in the steam-gondola." she smiled as she spoke, letting her eyesrest on his in a way that took the edge from her banter and made him suddenlymalleable to her will.

"all right, then: that's a go. will you come tomorrow?tomorrow at three o'clock, at the end of the mall.i'll be there sharp, remember; you won't go back on me, lily?" but to miss bart's relief the repetition ofher promise was cut short by the opening of the box door to admit george dorset.trenor sulkily yielded his place, and lily turned a brilliant smile on the newcomer. she had not talked with dorset since theirvisit at bellomont, but something in his look and manner told her that he recalledthe friendly footing on which they had last

met. he was not a man to whom the expression ofadmiration came easily: his long sallow face and distrustful eyes seemed alwaysbarricaded against the expansive emotions. but, where her own influence was concerned,lily's intuitions sent out thread-like feelers, and as she made room for him onthe narrow sofa she was sure he found a dumb pleasure in being near her. few women took the trouble to makethemselves agreeable to dorset, and lily had been kind to him at bellomont, and wasnow smiling on him with a divine renewal of kindness.

"well, here we are, in for another sixmonths of caterwauling," he began complainingly. "not a shade of difference between thisyear and last, except that the women have got new clothes and the singers haven't gotnew voices. my wife's musical, you know--puts methrough a course of this every winter. it isn't so bad on italian nights--then shecomes late, and there's time to digest. but when they give wagner we have to rushdinner, and i pay up for it. and the draughts are damnable--asphyxia infront and pleurisy in the back. there's trenor leaving the box withoutdrawing the curtain!

with a hide like that draughts don't makeany difference. did you ever watch trenor eat? if you did, you'd wonder why he's alive; isuppose he's leather inside too.--but i came to say that my wife wants you to comedown to our place next sunday. do for heaven's sake say yes. she's got a lot of bores coming--intellectual ones, i mean; that's her new line, you know, and i'm not sure it ain'tworse than the music. some of 'em have long hair, and they startan argument with the soup, and don't notice when things are handed to them.the consequence is the dinner gets cold,

and i have dyspepsia. that silly ass silverton brings them to thehouse--he writes poetry, you know, and bertha and he are getting tremendouslythick. she could write better than any of 'em ifshe chose, and i don't blame her for wanting clever fellows about; all i say is:'don't let me see 'em eat!'" the gist of this strange communication gavelily a distinct thrill of pleasure. under ordinary circumstances, there wouldhave been nothing surprising in an invitation from bertha dorset; but sincethe bellomont episode an unavowed hostility had kept the two women apart.

now, with a start of inner wonder, lilyfelt that her thirst for retaliation had died out. if you would forgive your enemy, says themalay proverb, first inflict a hurt on him; and lily was experiencing the truth of theapothegm. if she had destroyed mrs. dorset's letters,she might have continued to hate her; but the fact that they remained in herpossession had fed her resentment to satiety. she uttered a smiling acceptance, hailingin the renewal of the tie an escape from trenor's importunities.

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