quite as bad! Or, maybe you'll come
in? Billy Cox is in there waiting for me, and watching, I dare say."

"Some other time," replied Brassfield, "I shall be delighted. But Miss
Waldron has just been driven out into the street, and if she comes this
way, I must exhibit myself to her, and maybe she'll pick me up. She's
turning this way---- Billy, eh? Happy Billy; nice boy, too, since he
stopped drinking. By-by, Daisy-daise!"

Elizabeth came driving down the road, and walking up it came Aaron,
sable messenger of the anxious Madame le Claire, who had enlisted Aaron
in her service to bring Brassfield again within her magic realm. He
reached the object of his search before the carriage passed, and
delivered a note.

"Tell Madame le Claire," said Brassfield, whose ideas with reference to
that person must have been very hazy, "that such an invitation is a
command. I'll be with her immediately."

He stood smiling, hat in hand, at the crossing, as Elizabeth drove by.
She halted, and looked questioningly at him. This smile, this
confident aspect--all these were so different from his recent bearing
that she was surprised, and not more than half pleased. The element of
assurance in his attitude toward the other girl was not seen in his
treatment of Elizabeth, to whom it would have been offensive. Perhaps
the cunning of the consciously abnormal intellect was the cause of
this; or it may have been some emanation of dignity from the woman
herself acting on a mind in a state chronically hypnotic. Be the cause
what it may, to Elizabeth, with all his confidence and ardor, he was
most deferential and correct in manners, and, to her, these manners had
undergone no change. Confidently, as if no shadow had ever come over
their relations, he put his foot upon the step of the carriage.

"Won't you give me a lift," said he, "and put me down at my home?"

She made room for him with scarcely more than a word. "To the
Bellevale House," said she to the coachman.

Brassfield looked at her, so grave, so _distinguee_, so coolly sweet,
and forgot apparently that there was any one else in the world. He
slipped his hand under the lap-robe, and gave hers a gentle pressure.

"Dearest!" he half-whispered, caring very little whether he was
overheard or not.

She returned the caress by the slightest possible compression, and put
her hand outside the robe. Whether the one action was incited by a
desire to avoid complete unresponsivene