r in different directions. His old, youthful ideal of Mrs. Vostrand
finally perished in its presence, though still he could not blame her
for wishing to see her daughter well married after having seen her
married so ill. He asked himself, without getting any very definite
response, whether Mrs. Vostrand had always been this kind of a woman, or
had grown into it by the use of arts which her peculiar plan of life had
rendered necessary to her. He remembered the intelligent toleration of
Cynthia in speaking of her, and his indignation in behalf of the girl
was also thrill of joy for her escape from the fate which Mrs. Vostrand
was so eagerly invoking for her daughter. But he thought of Genevieve
with something of the same tenderness, and with a compassion that was
for her alone. She seemed to him a victim who was to be sacrificed a
second time, and he had clearly a duty to her which he must not evade.
The only question could be how best to discharge it, and Westover took
some hours from his work to turn the question over in his mind. In the
end, when he was about to give the whole affair up for the present, and
lose a night's sleep over it later, he had an inspiration, and he acted
upon it at once. He perceived that he owed no formal response to the
sentimental insincerities of Mrs. Vostrand's letter, and he decided to
write to Durgin himself, and to put the case altogether in his hands. If
Durgin chose to show the Vostrands what he should write, very well; if
he chose not to show it, then Westover's apparent silence would be a
sufficient reply to Mrs. Vostrand's appeal.

"I prefer to address you," he began, "because I do not choose to let
you think that I have any feeling to indulge against you, and
because I do not think I have the right to take you out of your own
keeping in any way. You would be in my keeping if I did, and I do
not wish that, not only because it would be a bother to me, but
because it would be a wrong to you.

"Mrs. Vostrand, whose letter to me I will leave you to answer by
showing her this, or in any other manner you choose, tells me you do
not want me to spare the truth concerning you. I have never been
quite certain what the truth was concerning you; you know that
better than I do; and I do not propose to write your biography here.
But I will remind you of a few things.

"The first day I saw you, I caught you amusing yourself with the
terror of two little