I was at _your_ house. He must remember your name. He wrote to me
there, and I answered him from there. He sees you now, and your name
must be associated with mine in his memory of me, if he has any. Tell
me now, Kitty, has he ever mentioned me? has he ever asked you about
me? has he ever made the remotest allusion to me?"

Ethel spoke rapidly and impetuously, and as she spoke she raised
herself from the sofa where she was reclining, and turned her large,
earnest eyes full upon her friend with anxious and eager watchfulness.
Mrs. Willoughby looked back at her with a face full of sadness, and
mournfully shook her head.

"You see," said Ethel, as she sank down again--"you see how true my
impression is."

"I must say," said Mrs. Willoughby, "that I thought of this before. I
fully expected that he would make some inquiry after you. I was so
confident in the noble character of the man, both from your story and
the description of others, that I could not believe you were right.
But you are right, my poor Ethel. I wish I could comfort you, but I
can not. Indeed, my dear, not only has he not questioned me about you,
but he evidently avoids me. It is not that he is engrossed with
Minnie, for he is not so; but he certainly has some reason of his own
for avoiding me. Whenever he speaks to me there is an evident effort
on his part, and though perfectly courteous, his manner leaves a
certain disagreeable impression. Yes, he certainly has some reason for
avoiding me."

"The reason is plain enough," murmured Ethel. "He wishes to prevent
you from speaking about a painful subject, or at least a distasteful