"my father was not willing for me to marry
before I had attained my seventeenth year, you remember, and it still
wants some months of that period."

"Oh, yes! but all that is changed now by the force of circumstances. You
are so well grown, so very womanly for your age, that I cannot see why
it would not be just as well to shorten rather than lengthen the period
of your engagement, especially as it seems Claude must go into exile
until then, by some caprice of yours. You will be at the head of your
own house too, after that ceremony takes place, which Claude is so
impatient to have over. Evelyn would go to England for a time under such
circumstances, for she will not oppose your views--your father's will
was made before your betrothal to my son, or he would scarcely have made
her your absolute guardian" (apologetically spoken). "For the matter of
that," he pursued, "I cannot doubt that, were you settled in life, she
would gladly transfer Mabel to your care. Indeed, I have heard her say
as much."

"A great temptation, truly!" I said, grimly.

"Your manner is peculiar to-day, Miriam. I cannot understand it, I
confess."

"For all explanation, Mr. Bainrothe, I refer you to your son. I prefer
not to discuss the matter."

"Ah! it is just as I expected, from his behavior as well as your own.
Some childish misunderstanding has taken place between you, which, he
was loath to acknowledge or explain, but which in your womanly candor
you will reveal at once, and tell me all about it. I am the very best
mediator you ever saw on such occasions," with a bland and confident
air, taking my hand, smiling.

"Mr. Bainrothe, your mediation could effect nothing between me and
Claude; we understand one another perfectly, I assure you."

He was very much excited now, evidently; he relinquished my unwilling
hand coldly--on which he had, doubtless, missed the conspicuous ring,
significant of my engagement. His chameleon eyes seemed to emit sparks
of phosphorescent fire, as if every one of the dull-yellow sparks
therein had become suddenly ignited. I saw then, for the first time,
what his ire could be, and what reason I had to dread it.

"Have I been deceived in believing that you were attached to my son,
Miriam Monfort, and that you meant to keep faith with him?" he asked,
stiffly.

"You have not been deceived, Mr. Bainrothe, nor is it my wish to deceive
you now. Again I beg to refer you to him for all explanation; whatever
he allege