ld be his tone? Did he come to ask for
particulars concerning her brother? Intend what he might, she dreaded
the interview. And yet--fact of which she made no secret to
herself--she had rather he came than not. When it was a few minutes
past five, and no foot had yet sounded in the corridor, all other
feeling was lost in the misgiving that he might have changed his mind.
Perhaps he had decided to write instead, and her heart sank at the
thought. She felt an overpowering curiosity as to the way in which this
event had affected the strange man. Reports were no satisfaction to
her; she desired to see him and hear him speak.

The footsteps at last! She trembled, went hot and cold, had a parched
throat. Mallard entered, and she did not offer him her hand; perhaps he
might reject it. In consequence there was an absurdly formal bow on
both sides.

"Please sit down, Mr. Mallard."

She saw that he was looking at the "St. Cecilia," but with what
countenance her eyes could not determine. To her astonishment, he spoke
of the picture, and in an unembarrassed tone.

"An odd thing that this should be in your room."

"Yes. We spoke of it the first time Cecily came."

Her accents were not firm. At once he fixed his gaze on her, and did
not remove it until her temples throbbed and she cast down her eyes in
helpless abashment.

"I have had a long letter from your brother, Mrs. Baske. It seems he
posted it just before they left for Capri. I can only reply to it in
one way, and it gives me so much pain to do so that I am driven to ask
your help. He writes begging me to take another view of this matter,
and permit them to be married before very long. The letter is
powerfully written; few men could plead their cause with such eloquence
and force. But it cannot alter my determination. I must reply briefly
and brutally. What I wish to ask you is, whether with sincerity you can
urge my arguments upon your brother, and give me this assistance in the
most obvious duty?"

"I have no influence with him, Mr. Mallard."

Again he looked at her persistently, and said with deliberation:

"I think you must have some. And this is one of the cases in which a
number of voices may possibly prevail, though one or two are
ineffectual. But--if you will forgive me my direct words--your voice
is, of course, useless if you cannot speak in earnest."

She was able now to return his look, for her pride was being aroused.
The face she examined bore such p