"I have not heard Mr. Chilton's name in a year until yesterday,"

said Mabel, the scarlet spots ceasing to flicker, and her voice hard

as was his own.

Unable to interpret her sudden steadiness of demeanor and accent,

Winston leaped to the irritating conclusion that she was sullen, and

meditated a defiant retreat from this untimely usurpation of his

olden authority.

"It was injudicious--miserably ill-judged in Dorrance not to

acquaint you with this. I have always feared lest his indulgence

might not be the most salutary method of repressing your self-will

and pride of opinion. You, more than any other woman I know, require

the tight rein of vigilant discipline. I intimated as much to

Dorrance when he asked my consent to your engagement. But this is

his lookout, not mine. What I began to say was that, in MY opinion,

he would have acted more sensibly had he not encouraged your

squeamish repugnance to talking of your early fault and its

mortifying consequences."

"Fortunately for me, my husband is a man of feeling and delicacy!"

Mabel was goaded to boast. "I said to him, the evening of our

betrothal, that the subject you have chosen to revive to-night was

painful to me, and he has respected the reluctance you condemn."

"He would have overcome it more quickly and thoroughly had he

informed you that he had had the honor of horse-whipping your

ci-devant betrothed!" sneered Winston, with white dinted nostrils.

"That he was the author of the letter, a portion of which I copied

for your perusal, when I announced the dissolution of your

provisional engagement--the main agent, in effect, of the rupture,

since but for him I should have had much difficulty in proving what

I had believed from the beginning--that the rascal ought to be shot

for presuming to think of you in any other light than as the merest

acquaintance. And he should never have been that, had I been with

you that unlucky summer."

"We have been over that ground so often, Winston, that both of us

should be tolerably familiar with it," rejoined Mabel, decidedly. "I

prefer that, instead of reviewing the circumstances of what you term

my 'early fault,' you should show me the evidence of your singular

assertion respecting Mr. Dorrance's agency in a matter in which he

could not at that time have had the slightest personal interest. Or,

shall I ask him? It is an enigma to me."

Without other answer than a contemptuous laugh, Winston left the

room, unnoticed by the musicians. But before she could form a

conjecture as to the meaning of his abrupt movement, he was back

with a letter in his hand.




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