they might have made me happy. In
themselves I have proved them to be worthless."

She was compelled to say these words. The intimate knowledge of the
character of her husband which had come to her after marriage made
her long that Horace should know that had she really comprehended the
man as he perhaps had known him all the while, she never could have
become his wife. It was impossible for her to tell him this, but she
caught eagerly at her present opportunity of letting him know that
she had had no duty toward her late husband beyond the mere formal
obligation of her wifehood. She could not bear Horace to think that
she had loved him. Even now, under the softening influence that death
imparts, that thought was intolerable to her. This was quite aside
from his treatment of her in his will, which, indeed, was strangely
little to her. It was the memory of the crafty and common nature
under that polished exterior that made her recoil from the thought
of him now.

If this feeling was strengthened by the contrast of the personality
now present to her gaze, how could she be blamed? Surely the man who
stood before her might have seemed to answer any woman's heart's
desire as lover, companion, friend. How her conscience smote her for
the doubts she had once had of him! When she remembered whose
treachery it was that had created these doubts, there was hate in her
heart.

She did not wish him to see the expression of this feeling in her
face, so she rose abruptly and turned from him. As if he understood
her, he rose also, and crossed the room to the desk at which she had
been seated on his entrance.

Here were heaped papers and memoranda connected with the Kingdon Hall
estates. Evidently he recognized their character, for he said:

"At least you have not refused to give me the help that I asked. I've
been talking to Kirke, and he tells me you have been taking an
interest in the affairs of the tenants. Thank you for this."

In an instant the bitterness in Bettina's heart was changed into a
new and softer emotion. She saw the opportunity of effecting now what
she had been so powerless to effect in the past. Forgetting
everything else, she came quickly to his side and took up one of the
papers. This was in her own handwriting, and was a memorandum of some
length. She held it away from him a moment, her face flushing, and a
look of hesitation showing on it.

"I never intended that you should see this," she said. "I began