he was laboring under some strong inward stress,
and he must have relief from it if he was to carry this business
through. He threw up the window and stood with his hand on the sash,
quivering in the strong in-rush of the freezing air. But it strengthened
him, and when he put down the window after a few moments, his faintness
passed altogether. Still, he thought he would not go through that
business at once; there was time enough; he would see his girls and tell
them that he was obliged to leave by an early train in the morning.

He took off his shoes, and put on his slippers and his house-coat, and
went to the stair-landing outside, and listened to the voices in the
library below. He could hear only women's voices, and he inferred that
the young man who had been dining with his daughters was gone. He went
back into his bedroom, and looked at the face of an unmasked thief in
his glass. It was not to get that aspect of himself, though, that he
looked; it was to see if he was pale or would seem ill to his children.

IV.

Northwick was fond of both his daughters; if he was more demonstrative
in meeting the younger, it was because she had the more modern and more
urban habit of caressing her father; the elder, who was very much the
elder, followed an earlier country fashion of self-possession, and
remained silent and seated when he came into the room, though she
watched with a pleased interest the exchange of endearments between him
and her sister. Her name was Adeline, which was her mother's name, too;
and she had the effect of being the aunt of the young girl. She was thin
and tall, and she had a New England indigestion which kept her looking
frailer than she really was. She conformed to the change of
circumstances which she had grown into almost as consciously as her
parents, and dressed richly in sufficiently fashionable gowns, which she
preferred to have of silk, cinnamon or brown in color; on her slight,
bony fingers she wore a good many rings.

Suzette was the name of the other daughter; her mother had fancied that
name; but the single monosyllable it had been shortened into somehow
suited the proud-looking girl better than the whole name, with its
suggestion of coquettishness.

She asked, "Why didn't you come down, papa? Mr. Wade was calling, and he
stayed to dinner." She smiled, and it gave him a pang to see that she
seemed unusually happy; he could have borne better, he perceived, to
leave her misera