ainments. She knew also that Rose was vain and
sentimental, and that one of her dear, dangerous pleasures was to make
every man think "it might have been." But she did not know that on the
subject of Mr. Duval Rose and her husband had a passionate,
intermitting quarrel, that Rose put Duval's name on every list of her
guests, and that Antony always crossed it off, with peremptory
positiveness, and that consequently there was in Rose's heart a secret
partisanship which had a dangerous romance about it. For it was
impossible for Antony to prevent Rose from meeting the man in the
houses of friends, in the crowded foyers of the theatre or opera, on
the street, on the drive in the park; and on all such occasions a
glance, a word, a lingering hand clasp, conveyed to Rose a meaning she
ought not to have understood, and won from her in return an interest
or sympathy she ought not to have given.

For once that this secret understanding was established, she found it
hard to escape from its influence; gradually, almost unconsciously,
the intimacy grew; and Rose, feeling sure in her heart that she meant
nothing wrong, was quite off her guard, and only sensible of the
pleasure that the secret, silent romance gave her. Love, however, that
believes itself favored, is not long satisfied with such results, and
Duval had grown more bold, more exacting, more dangerous, with every
meeting. For he was actuated by motives not to be easily dashed, and
he was resolved to carry his point. First, he admired Rose; second, he
was poor, and Rose had at least $10,000 a year entirely at her own
disposal; third, he hated Antony; and for these reasons, to induce
Rose to leave Antony had become the passion of his life--a passion so
eager, earnest, and pervading, that Rose was frightened at its
strength. The man had gained a point at which he could both coax and
threaten, and the poor weak woman--really loving her husband and
adoring her child--was led, and ordered, and pleased, and tormented,
by the whimsies of this sentimental affair, which she thought was
driving Duval either to ruin or to death.

Of this condition Adriana, as well as all others who loved Rose, was
entirely ignorant. Yet the sight of the couple, and their absorbed
manner, forced itself again and again on Adriana's consciousness; and
she resolved to name the circumstance to Harry that night. Harry
listened, and looked much annoyed, but he answered finally:

"I do not believe there is