soul embittered within her, Lady Baltimore feels more
and more a sense of passionate wrong against the man who had wooed and
won her, and sown the seeds of gnawing distrust within her bosom.

Baltimore's face has whitened. His brow contracts.

"What a devilish unforgiving thing is a good woman," says he, with a
reckless laugh. "That's a compliment, my lady--take it as you will.
What! are your sneers to outlast life itself? Is that old supposed sin
of mine never to be condoned? Why--say it was a real thing, instead of
being the myth it is. Even so, a woman all prayers, all holiness, such
as you are, might manage to pardon it!"

Lady Baltimore, rising, walks deliberately toward the door. It is her,
usual method of putting an end to all discussions of this sort between
them--of terminating any allusions to what she believes to be his
unfaithful past--that past that has wrecked her life.

As a rule, Baltimore makes no attempt to prolong the argument. He has
always let her go, with a sneering word, perhaps, or a muttered
exclamation; but to-day he follows her, and stepping between her and the
door, bars her departure.

"By heavens! you shall hear me," says he, his face dark with anger. "I
will not submit any longer, in silence, to your insolent treatment of
me. You condemn me, but I tell you it is I who should condemn. Do you
think I believe in your present attitude toward me? Pretend as you will,
even to yourself, in your soul it is impossible that you should give
credence to that old story, false as it is old. No! you cling to it to
mask the feet you have tired of me."

"Let me pass."

"Not until you have heard me!" With a light, but determined grasp of her
arm, he presses her back into the chair she has just quitted.

"That story was a lie, I tell you. Before our marriage, I confess, there
were some things--not creditable--to which I plead guilty, but----"

"Oh! be silent!" cries she, putting up her hand impulsively to check
him. There is open disgust and horror on her pale, severe face.

"Before, before our marriage," persists he passionately.

"What! do you think there is no temptation--no sin--no falling away from
the stern path of virtue in this life? Are you so mad or so ignorant as
to believe that every man you meet could show a perfectly clean record
of----"

"I cannot--I will not listen," interposes she, springing to her feet,
white and indignant.

"There is nothing to hear. I am not going to pollut