ething, anything, for which neither of us would be responsible."

"To be sure!" answered Miss Alida, vaguely. She had a feeling that
Adriana had a feeling, and that there was an unacknowledged
presentiment between them. So they drove, and drove, and Adriana's
high spirits suddenly left her. Miss Alida also became quiet, and the
hour grew monotonous and chilly and gray, and as the best carriages
were leaving the drive she gave the order to return home.

They were nearing the Plaza when Miss Alida directed Adriana's
attention to an approaching carriage. It was in a glow of color, and
as it drew nearer the colors became robes and wraps of gorgeous
shades, and reclining among them was a certain well-known operatic
divinity. Harry was with her. His eyes were looking into her eyes, and
his whole being was absorbed in the intoxicating sensuous loveliness
of his companion. He never saw Adriana. She looked directly at her
recreant lover, and he never saw her. There was no need for words. The
event was too positive and too flagrant to admit of doubt or
palliation.

"To-morrow I shall go to Woodsome," said Adriana, as they stood a
moment in the hall; "to-night, dear cousin, make an excuse for me, if
you please."

But Miss Alida followed Adriana to her room and answered: "Make an
excuse for you! Nonsense! See Harry, and tell him what you saw. I hate
those sulky quarrels where people 'think it best to say nothing.'"

"How can I tell him?"

"The plainest way is the easiest way. Tell him you saw him driving in
the Park, and ask him very sweetly whom he was driving with. If he
tells a lie----"

"I will not tempt him to lie. What could he do else?"

"I would humble him to my very feet."

"Then I might as well say, 'Farewell forever,' for a man at my feet
could never be my lover and husband. Oh, cousin, I must say 'farewell'
in any case. I am so wretched! so wretched!"

"Poor girl! I have always told you not to put your trust in a broken
reed--alias man. You did so, and you have got a wound for your pains.
But, Yanna, my dear, what is now the good of crying for the moon; that
is, for a man who is not a broken reed? I advise you to see Harry."

"I cannot. See him for me. Please."

"What am I to say? You know how apt I am to speak the uppermost
thought."

"You will say nothing wrong. Do not tell father anything."

"There I think you are wrong. Cousin Peter has intuitive wisdom--woman's
wisdom, as well as man's craft."