er hand, he demanded nothing,
then the lifelong obligation in the way of gratitude that must thus be
imposed on her would be the most intolerable thing of all. Better any
privation than the incurring of such a debt--a debt that would cover
everything she was or could become. Its magnitude would fill her
horizon; she must live henceforth in the world it made, her very
personality would turn into a thing of confused origin, sprung, it was
true, from Henry and Carlotta Guion in the first place, but taking a
second lease of life from the man whose beneficence started her afresh.
She would date back to him, as barbarous women date to their marriage or
Mohammedans to the Flight. It was a relation she could not have endured
toward a man even if she loved him; still less was it sufferable with
one whom she had always regarded with an indefinable disdain, when she
had not ignored him. The very possibility that he might purchase a hold
on her inspired a frantic feeling, like that of the ermine at pollution.

Throughout the morning she was obliged to conceal from her father this
intense opposition--or, at least to refrain from speaking of it. When
she made the attempt he grew so feverish that the doctor advised the
postponement of distressing topics till he should be better able to
discuss them. She could only make him as comfortable as might be,
pondering while she covered him up in the chaise-longue, putting his
books and his cigars within easy reach, how she could best convert him
to her point of view. It was inconceivable to her that he would persist
in the scheme when he realized how it would affect her.

She had gone down to the small oval sitting-room commanding the
driveway, thinking it probable that Drusilla Fane might come to see her.
Watching for her approach, she threw open the French window set in the
rounded end of the room and leading out to the Corinthian-columned
portico that adorned what had once been the garden side of the house.
There was no garden now, only a stretch of elm-shaded lawn, with a few
dahlias and zinnias making gorgeous clusters against the already
gorgeous autumn-tinted shrubbery. On the wall of a neighboring brick
house, Virginia creeper and ampelopsis added fuel to the fire of
surrounding color, while a maple in the middle distance blazed with all
the hues that might have flamed in Moses's burning bush. It was one of
those days of the American autumn when the air is shot with gold, when
there