"Misgivings! What do you mean?"

"That the uncalled-for vehemence of your defence is a proof of
disturbed confidence, of wanting belief in the infallibility of your
semi-deity. The trailing robes of divinity have been blown aside by
a chance breath of suspicion, and you had a glimpse of the clay
feet. I am glad of it. Scepticism is the parent of rebellion, and
the time is coming when fealty to your betrothed may demand
disloyalty to the power that now is."

Mabel's smile was meant to be careless, but it was only uneasy, and
gave the lie direct to her asseveration.

"I have no apprehensions of such a conflict. Winston's word is as
good as another man's oath. It is pledged to my marriage with
Frederic Chilton, in the event of the prosperous issue of his
inquiries into his, Frederic's, character and prospects. That these
will be answered favorably, I have the word of another, who is every
whit as trustworthy. Where is there room for doubt?"

The brunette shook her head--unconvinced.

"Have your own way! I can afford to abide the showing of the logic
of events."

"And I!" retorted Mabel, hastily, turning from her, without
attempting to dissemble her chagrin, to answer a knock at the door.

It was a servant, with two letters. The annoyance passed from her
brow, like the sheerest mist, as she read the superscriptions--one