of my majority, to endow you richly in your own right. It is
independence you want--you shall have it. My father will consent to
this I know, and consider it no more than your due."

"You are kind," she said; "generous, very. You are not like your
mother's people in that respect, such as they are in these degenerate
days, at least. She herself was unlike them, I have heard, for her hand
was princely. But, Miriam, I could not receive such obligations from
you--ought not. Besides--your husband!"

"Ah, Evelyn, there is nothing he would refuse me--nothing."

A gloomy mockery transfused itself into her eyes, her lips were fixed in
a suppressed and sneering smile. Incredulity was written on her aspect.
Her face at that moment was very repulsive to contemplate.

"You do not believe in men," I said, coldly. "I have always remarked it;
yet there are _some_ worthy of confidence, believe me."

"Very few, Miriam, and Claude Bainrothe is not unlike the majority of
his fellows. Men count it no wrong to deceive women."

"O Evelyn, you are too severe, I think. Why seek to shake my confidence
in the man I love? He did not happen to suit your fancy, and you
rejected him. I took what you cast aside, humbly, thankfully, dear
Evelyn. Why resent this, and scorn me for my humility? Let not your
pride for me make you unjust toward him. You, of all women, can best
afford to be generous to Claude Bainrothe."

But still the cold shadow veiled her face, and still she looked