olonel--

"Then am I to understand that you have agreed to her story?"

The colonel rose, picked up the decanter, poured out a glass of
whiskey, and holding it in his hand, said:--

"My dear Hathaway, let us understand each other. As a gentleman, I
have made a point through life never to question the age, name, or
family of any lady of my acquaintance. Miss Yerba Buena came of age
yesterday, and, as she is no longer my ward, she is certainly entitled
to the consideration I have just mentioned. If she, therefore, chooses
to tack to her name the whole Spanish directory, I don't see why I
shouldn't accept it."

Characteristic as this speech appeared to be of the colonel's ordinary
manner, it struck Paul as being only an imitation of his usual frank
independence, and made him uneasily conscious of some vague desertion
on Pendleton's part. He fixed his bright eyes on his host, who was
ostentatiously sipping his liquor, and said:--

"Am I to understand that you have heard nothing more from Miss Yerba,
either for or against her story? That you still do not know whether
she has deceived herself, has been deceived by others, or is deceiving
us?"

"After what I have just told you, Mr. Hathaway," said the colonel, with
an increased exaggeration of manner which Paul thought must be apparent
even to himself, "I should have but one way of dealing with questions
of that kind from anybody but yourself."

This culminating extravagance--taken in connection with Pendleton's
passing doubts--actually forced a laugh from Paul in spite of his
bitterness.

Colonel Pendleton's face flushed quickly. Like most positive
one-idea'd men, he was restricted from any possible humorous
combination, and only felt a mysterious sense of being detected in some
weakness. He put down his glass.

"Mr. Hathaway," he began, with a slight vibration in his usual dominant
accents, "you have lately put me under a sense of personal obligation
for a favor which I felt I could accept without derogation from a
younger man, because it seemed to be one not only of youthful
generosity but of justice, and was not unworthy the exalted ambition of
a young man like yourself or the simple deserts of an old man such as I
am. I accepted it, sir, the more readily, because it was entirely
unsolicited by me, and seemed to be the spontaneous offering of your
own heart. If I have presumed upon it to express myself freely on
other matters in a way that only excites