guests died away. Virginia turned her head, and for an instant the pearls
trembled on her neck. There was a young man cordially and unconcernedly
shaking hands with her father and Captain Lige. Her memory of that moment
is, strangely, not of his face (she did not deign to look at that), but
of the muscle of his shoulder half revealed as he stretched forth his
arm.

Young Mr. Colfax bent over to her ear.

"Virginia," he whispered earnestly, almost fiercely, Virginia, who
invited him here?"

"I did," said Virginia, calmly, "of course. Who invites any one here?"

"But!" cried Clarence, "do you know who he is?"

"Yes," she answered, "I know. And is that any reason why he should not
come here as a guest? Would you bar any gentleman from your house on
account of his convictions?"

Ah, Virginia, who had thought to hear that argument from your lips? What
would frank Captain Lige say of the consistency of women, if he heard you
now? And how give an account of yourself to Anne Brinsmade? What
contrariness has set you so intense against your own argument?

Before one can answer this, before Mr. Clarence can recover from his
astonishment and remind her of her vehement words on the subject at
Bellegarde, Mr. Stephen is making thither with the air of one who
conquers. Again the natural contrariness of women. What bare-faced
impudence! Has he no shame that he should hold his head so high? She