ffered her to Eugene."

"I think myself it would have been an excellent match for Eugene," says
madame, with motherly kindness in her tone. "That was last summer. I
should have counselled him to accept if I had been a sister. It does
not seem so strange to me. Marriages are always arranged in France."

Marcia is struck with amazement, nay, more, a touch of mortification.
Can it be possible that the family have known this since last summer,
and she alone has been shut out?

"We Americans are in the habit of choosing our own husbands," she
begins, after a pause.

"Yet you see how admirably this would have worked. The business was
left to Eugene, and if he had accepted Mr. St. Vincent's daughter he
would have had another share, and the right to control the patent. Your
brother cares nothing about the business interests further than they
concern the family prosperity, though no doubt he is glad to have his
wife an heiress. Men seldom object to money."

Marcia sees it all in that light, for she is not dull, and she is also
stirred with a sharp pang of jealousy. If Jasper Wilmarth had known
more about her,--he _is_ ambitious, and to control the factory would be
a great delight to him. With it all she turns her anger upon the
innocent Violet.

"I don't believe Floyd really cared for her money," she says, in an
unconvinced tone. "I think he was drawn into it, and she is very ready
to--to accept everything that comes in her way."

"Remember that Eugene and she are much nearer in age. I dare say the
professor seemed quite like a father to her, and your brother is so
grave and scholarly that it is natural to turn to some one young and
bright. It seemed to me a great misfortune, and if Eugene had been on
the spot I fancy matters would have gone differently. But we really
must not gossip about them. They are very happy."

They go on down through the park, and meet acquaintances driving along
the boulevard. Eugene and Violet do not choose this well-known way, but
Marcia half hopes she shall meet them somewhere and administer a public
rebuke in the shape of a frown of such utter disapprobation that both
will at once understand. Madame ruminates, as she often has before, on
the slender chance that bridged all these matters over before one could
utter a dissent. And the most probable sequel will be Eugene's love for
his brother's wife. These little incidents are strewn all along life,
and are too common to create any particular