which was lost upon me, for I whispered in his ear; "Do you know
now that I _love_ Desmond?"

"Will you bring him into our Paradise?"

"Where?"

"Our home, in Surrey."

"Wont an angel with a flaming sword make it piquant?"

"If you marry Desmond Somers," he said austerely, "you will contradict
three lives,--yours, mine, and Veronica's. What beast was it that
suggested this horrible discord? Have you so much passion that you
cannot discern the future you offer yourself?"

"Imperator, you have an agreeable way of putting things. But they are
coming through the hall. Good-night."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

At eleven o'clock the next day I was ready for departure. All stood by
the open hall door, criticising Murphy's strapping of my trunks on a
hack. Messrs. Digby and Devereaux, in black satin scarfs, hung over
the step railings; Mrs. Somers, Adelaide, and Ann were within the
door. Mr. Somers and Ben were already on the walk, waiting for me; so
I went through the ceremony of bidding good-by--a ceremony performed
with so much cheerfulness on all sides that it was an occasion for
well-bred merriment, and I made my exit as I should have made it in a
genteel comedy, but with a bitter feeling of mortification, because of
their artificial, willful imperturbability I was forced to oppose them
with manners copied after their own.

I looked from the carriage window for a last view of my room. The
chambermaid was already there, and had thrown open the shutters, to
let in daylight upon the scene of the most royal dreams I had ever
had. The ghost of my individuality would lurk there no longer than
the chairs I had placed, the books I had left, the shreds of paper or
flowers I had scattered, could be moved or swept away.

All the way to Boston the transition to my old condition oppressed me.
I felt a dreary disgust at the necessity of resuming relations which
had no connection with the sentiment that bound me to Belem. After we
were settled at the Tremont, while watching a sad waiter engaged
in the ceremonial of folding napkins like fans, I discovered an
intermediate tone of mind, which gave my thoughts a picturesque tinge.
My romance, its regrets, and its pleasures, should be set in the frame
of the wild sea and shores of Surrey. I invested our isolated house
with the dignity of a stage, where the drama, which my thoughts must
continually represent, could go on without interruption, and remain a
secret I should have no