her from rendering her account as guardian of her daughter's
patrimony? If Paul withdrew his proposals all Bordeaux would know the
reason and Natalie's future marriage would be made impossible. This
mother, who desired the happiness of her daughter, this woman, who
from infancy had lived honorably, was aware that on the morrow she
must become dishonest. Like those great warriors who fain would blot
from their lives the moment when they had felt a secret cowardice, she
ardently desired to cut this inevitable day from the record of hers.
Most assuredly some hairs on her head must have whitened during the
night, when, face to face with facts, she bitterly regretted her
extravagance as she felt the hard necessities of the situation.

Among these necessities was that of confiding the truth to her notary,
for whom she sent in the morning as soon as she rose. She was forced
to reveal to him a secret defaulting she had never been willing to
admit to herself, for she had steadily advanced to the abyss, relying
on some chance accident, which never happened, to relieve her. There
rose in her soul a feeling against Paul, that was neither dislike, nor
aversion, nor anything, as yet, unkind; but HE was the cause of this
crisis; the opposing party in this secret suit; he became, without
knowing it, an innocent enemy she was forced to conquer. What human
being did ever yet love his or her dupe? Compelled to deceive and
trick him if she could, the Spanish woman resolved, like other women,
to put her whole force of character into the struggle, the dishonor of
which could be absolved by victory only.

In the stillness of the night she excused her conduct to her own mind
by a tissue of arguments in which her pride predominated. Natalie had
shared the benefit of her extravagance. There was not a single base or
ignoble motive in what she had done. She was no accountant, but was