Francine's presence, what he had hoped to say to Emily
privately.

"When I joined Miss Wyvil and Mr. Morris," he began, "what do you think
they were doing? They were talking of--Miss Jethro."

Emily dropped the rose-crown on her lap. It was easy to see that she had
been disagreeably surprised.

"Mr. Morris has told me the curious story of Miss Jethro's visit,"
Mirabel continued; "but I am in some doubt whether he has spoken to me
without reserve. Perhaps he expressed himself more freely when he spoke
to _you_. Miss Jethro may have said something to him which tended to
lower me in your estimation?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Mirabel--so far as I know. If I had heard anything
of the kind, I should have thought it my duty to tell you. Will it
relieve your anxiety, if I go at once to Mr. Morris, and ask him plainly
whether he has concealed anything from you or from me?"

Mirabel gratefully kissed her hand. "Your kindness overpowers me," he
said--speaking, for once, with true emotion.

Emily immediately returned to the house. As soon as she was out of
sight, Francine approached Mirabel, trembling with suppressed rage.

CHAPTER XLVI. PRETENDING.

Miss de Sor began cautiously with an apology. "Excuse me, Mr. Mirabel,
for reminding you of my presence."

Mr. Mirabel made no reply.

"I beg to say," Francine proceeded, "that I didn't intentionally see you
kiss Emily's hand."

Mirabel stood, looking at the roses which Emily had left on her chair,
as completely absorbed in his own thoughts as if he had been alone in
the garden.

"Am I not even worth notice?" Francine asked. "Ah, I know to whom I
am indebted for your neglect!" She took him familiarly by the arm, and
burst into a harsh laugh. "Tell me now, in confidence--do you think
Emily is fond of you?"

The impression left by Emily's kindness was still fresh in Mirabel's
memory: he was in no humor to submit to the jealous resentment of a
woman whom he regarded with perfect indifference. Through the varnish
of politeness which overlaid his manner, there rose to the surface the
underlying insolence, hidden, on all ordinary occasions, from all human
eyes. He answered Francine--mercilessly answered her--at last.

"It is the dearest hope of my life that she may be fond of me," he said.

Francine dropped his arm "And fortune favors your hopes," she added,
with an ironical assumption of interest in Mirabel's prospects. "When
Mr. Morris leaves us to-morrow, he removes t