h had settled down upon the vast earth and herself.

The longer she sat and considered, the more melancholy did she become.
Stephen was displeased with her conduct and made no effort to conceal
it, inflicting only the greater wound by his ambiguous and incisive
remarks. His apparent unconcern and indifference of manner frightened
her, and she saw, or she thought she saw a sudden deprivation of that
esteem with which she was vain enough to presuppose he was wont to
regard her. And yet he was mistaken, greatly mistaken. Furthermore, he
was unfair to himself and unjust to her in the misinterpretation of her
behavior. His displeasure pained her beyond endurance.

In her relations with John Anderson, she had been genuinely sincere both
with herself and with Stephen. The latter had asked her to help him; and
this she was trying to do in her own way. That there was something
suspicious about Anderson, she knew; but whether the cause lay in his
manner of action or in the possession of documentary evidence, she could
not so much as conjecture. What more apt method could be employed than
to associate with him in the hope that at some time or other important
information might be imparted to her? She did not intend to play the
part of the spy; still if that was the role in which she hoped to find
Anderson, she was ready to assume a similar role for the very purpose of
outwitting him and defeating him on his own ground. If Stephen would
only trust her. Oh, dear! And she wrung her hands in abject despair.

Little by little her experiences of the summer just past came before her
with a vividness which her experience with Stephen served only to
intensify. First, there was the night of the Governor's Ball. He had
come into her life there, filling a vacancy not realized before.
Hitherto, she had been quite content in the company of almost any one,
and especially with those of the sterner sex. But with the advent of
this dashing young officer she began to experience a set of new
sensations. The incompleteness of her life was brought before her.

He seemed to perfect her being, sharing her pleasures, lessening her
woes, consoling her heart. Still, there was one office that he had
failed to perform; he was not obsequious. Not that he was ever wanting
in attention and deferential courtesy, or that he ever failed to betray
a warmth of feeling or a generous devotion; but his manner was prosaic,
thoroughly practical both in action and in expr