th regard to Antony was one instinct with
disapproval and almost anger.

"Mother thinks I had better look for a house," he said. "Rose asked
mother to attend to the matter, but she seems to be worn out, and
unfit for the work."

"Is it to be furnished or unfurnished?" asked Adriana.

"Furnished, if possible. And it must be very large and handsome. They
are going to build, but in the meantime they must rent. Can you not
look for what is required, Yanna? Mother came to ask you to help her
this morning, but she appears to have had but scant welcome in my
house."

"I am not able to endure the fatigue of house-hunting, Harry; and baby
is very poorly and cross. He has a high fever to-night."

"Mother told me I would find you unwilling to do anything."

"She did not ask me."

"She had no opportunity. You left the room."

"If she told you so much, Harry, I hope she was honest enough to tell
you _why_ I left the room."

"Well, Yanna, if you will listen to idle reports, and then fret
mother about them, you cannot expect her to join you in complaints
against me and my conduct. She at least trusts me!" Then Harry, with a
magnificent air of being wrongly accused, rose; and Adriana saw that
he was about to leave the room.

"Harry," she cried, "was that really what mother told you? How could
she? How could she?"

"I shall not return until late. Do not wait for me."

And so, with this evil impression--without caring for her
explanation--Harry was gone. He had evidently been inspired with a
sense of wrong, and he showed it; he had been led to believe that
Adriana doubted and complained of him, and he was determined to make
her feel that he resented her complaining. And oh! how bitter were the
hours she sat alone, pondering the cruel situation in which the
wickedness of others had placed her! Nor could she help a feeling of
resentment against Rose. In every crisis of her life this girl had
interfered to bring her sorrow. "She is my evil genius," she said
angrily, "and not only mine, but Antony's also. Poor Antony! He has to
suffer like me every wrong and injustice, and yet to hold his peace."
And her heart was heavy, and she felt a dark despair and a fretful
anger striving with her prudence and affection, and urging her at all
risks to set herself clear in Harry's eyes. "But to what purpose?" she
asked. "He does not believe--that is, he does not want to believe me.
My patience has brought me only injustice; and in vain, i