sponsible a thing as might be.

'But here,' thought she, 'I am the niece of a man of recognised station;
I am treated in his family with a more than ordinary deference and
respect--his very daughter would cede the place of honour to me, and
my will is never questioned. It is time to teach this pretentious fine
gentleman that our positions are not what they once were. If I were a man,
I should never cease till I had fastened a quarrel on him; and being a
woman, I could give my love to the man who would avenge me. Avenge me of
what? a mere slight, a mood of impertinent forgetfulness--nothing more--as
if anything could be more to a woman's heart! A downright wrong can be
forgiven, an absolute injury pardoned--one is raised to self-esteem by such
an act of forgiveness; but there is no elevation in submitting patiently to
a slight. It is simply the confession that the liberty taken with you was
justifiable--was even natural.'

These were the sum of her thoughts as she went, ever recurring to the point
how Walpole would feel offended by her absence, and how such a mark of her
indifference would pique his vanity, even to insult.

Then she pictured to her mind how this fine gentleman would feel the
boredom of that dreary day. True, it would be but a day; but these men were
not tolerant of the people who made time pass heavily with them, and they
revenged their own ennui on all around them. How he would snub the old
man for the son's pretensions, and sneer at the young man for his
disproportioned ambition; and last of all, how he would mystify poor Kate,
till she never knew whether he cared to fatten calves and turkeys, or was
simply drawing her on to little details, which he was to dramatise one day
in an after-dinner story.

She thought of the closed pianoforte, and her music on the top--the songs
he loved best; she had actually left Mendelssohn there to be seen--a very
bait to awaken his passion. She thought she actually saw the fretful
impatience with which he threw the music aside and walked to the window to
hide his anger.

'This excursion of Mademoiselle Nina was then a sudden thought, you tell
me; only planned last night? And is the country considered safe enough for
a young lady to go off in this fashion. Is it secure--is it decent? I know
he will ask, "Is it decent?" Kate will not feel--she will not see the
impertinence with which he will assure her that she herself may be
privileged to do these things; that her "I