s he had done for
her, but spoke of them this evening more amply; his care of her, a
penniless patient, in that hospital where she woke up after a space of
unconsciousness; his unremitting kindness when she lived in his house
and took care of his father, the dear old judge, who was sick three long
years before he died; the proof of goodness more remarkable still which
he gave after that.

A tremulous hope flickered up in Gerald that she would go on and tell
him about the latter, perhaps filling in some of the lacunae which her
history had for him. Much had come out in their many hours of talk, but
he had found her circumspect with regard to certain parts of her life,
and had never put a question. In one so frank, her avoidance appeared a
result of dislike to remembering those unmentioned links in the chain of
events.

But this evening again she stopped short of telling him what he would
have liked to know--how Bewick was connected with her wealth. For it had
come to her from no second husband: she had not been twice married.

She broke off with the words, "Oh, some time I'll tell you the whole
story. I don't feel like it now. It always makes me so mad!"

If Aurora had been pledged to Bewick, thought Gerald, the most natural
thing would have been to tell him of it this evening. In her expatiating
upon all she owed to Bewick, Gerald felt a wish to explain how it was
that without being engaged to him she could commit the impropriety of
publicly weeping over his departure.

It seemed to Gerald rather late in the day for him to seek an excuse to
call at the Hermitage; yet on the afternoon following Dr. Bewick's
departure he sought for one--one having reference to Estelle. He took
with him a propitiatory little volume containing translations of
well-known poems by one Amiel. Estelle was regarded as being immensely
interested in French; she daily translated themes back and forth from
her own language into that of Moliere. These singularly neat and exact
productions of Amiel's should delight--and disarm her.

Gerald did not dislike Estelle, far from it. He did justice to her as a
good, true-hearted, self-improving American. Taken by herself, he felt
for her decided regard; but taken in connection with Aurora he would
sometimes have liked delicately to lift her between finger and thumb and
drop her into a well.

When he entered the red-and-green room, the very least bit timidly, with
his book in his hand, he perceived al