ita
was confined to her room by an attack of languid nerves, superinduced,
as she was still voluble enough to declare, by the narcotic effect of
some unknown herb which the lunatic Ezekiel had no doubt mysteriously
administered to her with a view of experimenting on its properties. She
even avowed that she must speedily return to Los Osos, before Ezekiel
should further compromise her reputation by putting her on a colored
label in place of the usual Celestial Distributer of the Panacea.
Ezekiel himself, who had been singularly abstracted and reticent,
and had absolutely foregone one or two opportunities of disagreeable
criticism, had gone to the pueblo early that morning. The house was
comparatively silent and deserted when Demorest walked into his wife's
boudoir.

It was a pretty room, looking upon the garden, furnished with a singular
mingling of her own inherited formal tastes and the more sensuous
coloring and abandon of her new life. There were a great many rugs
and hangings scattered in disorder around the room, and apparently
purposeless, except for color; there was a bamboo lounge as large as a
divan, with two or three cushions disposed on it, and a low chair that
seemed the incarnation of indolence. Opposed to this, on the wall, was
the rigid picture of her grandfather, who had apparently retired with
his volume further into the canvas before the spectacle of this ungodly
opulence; a large Bible on a funereal trestle-like stand, and the
primmest and barest of writing-tables, before which she was standing as
at a sacrificial altar. With an almost mechanical movement she closed
her portfolio as her husband entered, and also shut the lid of a
small box with a slight snap. This suggested exclusion of him from her
previous occupation, whatever it might have been, caused a faint shadow
of pain to pass across his loving eyes. He cast a glance at his wife
as if mutely asking her to sit beside him, but she drew a chair to the
table, and with her elbow resting on the box, resignedly awaited his
speech.

"I don't mean to disturb you, darling," he said, gently, "but as we were
alone, I thought we might have one of our old-fashioned talks, and--"

"Don't let it be so old-fashioned as to include North Liberty again,"
she interrupted, wearily. "We've had quite enough of that since I
returned."

"I thought you found fault with me then for forgetting the past. But
let that pass, dear; it is not OUR affairs I wanted to talk