t. If this terrible creature withdrew into a brazen fortress of lies,
who could tell how long a siege she might be able to withstand? The girl
had been astonished and dismayed in the morning, when the first sally of
the attack had failed; but then her strongest forces, her most deadly
weapons, had been still in reserve. Now they had been brought against the
enemy's defenses and--the walls had not fallen; there was no sign of
capitulation. A cold misgiving began to stir in Virginia's mind. Would it
mean failure if the Countess de Mattos obstinately refused to tell the
truth?

After all, she was only a girl, opposed to a woman whose varied
experience of thirty years or more had endowed her with infinite
resource. Virginia's stricken silence gave the other a new advantage.

"As you have said yourself," icily began the Countess once more, "you are
my hostess. You flattered me; you made me think that you were my friend;
you asked me on board your yacht, and I came, trustingly, ignorant that,
under some wild mistake which even now I do not comprehend, you plotted
my betrayal. Why, it was a Judas act!"

"If I did evil, I did it that good might come," said poor Virginia. "And
it _shall_ come. You are Liane Devereux. _You_ were guilty of the 'Judas
act.' Maxime Dalahaide loved you; and with what motive I don't yet know,
but mean to know, you betrayed him to a fate worse than death. For that
you deserve anything. Yes, I kidnapped you. That's what Roger called it,
and I don't repent now. You are here on this yacht with Maxime Dalahaide,
and we are on the open sea. Unless you jump overboard, you cannot get
away from your atonement. Atonement--that is the word. Oh, woman,
woman--if you _are_ a woman and not a stone, think what atonement would
mean for you! You must have had terrible moments, living with
remembrances like yours--a man who loved you sent to a living grave. Now
it is in your power to make up to him--ever so little, perhaps, but a
thousand times better than nothing--for the wrong you did. Do this--do
it, and be thankful all the rest of your life for the blessed chance
which heaven has sent you."

The Countess laughed. "You change your tone suddenly--from threats to an
appeal. You would make quite a good preacher, but your eloquence can have
no effect on my conscience, as I have not the remotest idea what you are
talking about. I had let myself grow fond of you, and I was grateful for
all these lazy, pleasant weeks, a