languid eyes to Brimmer, "I
ought to have felt the throb of that volcano under its mask of snow. You
have taught me a lesson."

Withdrawing her hands hastily, as if the volcano had shown some signs of
activity, she leaned back on the sofa again.

"You are not yet reconciled to Mr. Keene's expedition, then?" she asked
languidly.

"I believe that everything has been already done," said Brimmer,
somewhat stiffly; "all sources of sensible inquiry have been exhausted
by me. But I envy Keene the eminently practical advantages his
impractical journey gives him," he added, arresting himself, gallantly;
"he goes with you."

"Truly!" said Miss Montgomery, with the melancholy abstraction of
a stage soliloquy. "Beyond obeying the dictates of his brotherly
affection, he gains no real advantage in learning whether his sister is
alive or dead. The surety of her death would not make him freer than he
is now--freer to absolutely follow the dictates of a new affection; free
to make his own life again. It is a sister, not a wife, he seeks."

Mr. Brimmer's forehead slightly contracted. He leaned back a little more
rigidly in his chair, and fixed a critical, half supercilious look upon
her. She did not seem to notice his almost impertinent scrutiny, but sat
silent, with her eyes bent on the carpet, in gloomy abstraction.

"Can you keep a secret?" she said, as if with a sudden resolution.

"Yes," said Brimmer briefly, without changing his look.

"You know I am a married woman. You have heard the story of my wrongs?"

"I have heard them," said Brimmer dryly.

"Well, the husband who abused and deserted me was, I have reason to
believe, a passenger on the Excelsior."

"M'Corkle!--impossible. There was no such name on the passenger list."

"M'Corkle!" repeated Miss Montgomery, with a dissonant tone in her voice
and a slight flash in her eyes. "What are you thinking of? There never
was a Mr. M'Corkle; it was one of my noms de plume. And where did YOU
hear it?"

"I beg your pardon, I must have got it from the press notices of your
book of poetry. I knew that Montgomery was only a stage name, and as
it was necessary that I should have another in making the business
investments you were good enough to charge me with, I used what
I thought was your real name. It can be changed, or you can sign
M'Corkle."

"Let it go," said Miss Montgomery, resuming her former manner. "What
matters? I wish there was no such thing as business. Well,"