as all in black. A mantua covered with
bugles and braid dropped from her shoulders, while a bonnet which rose
to a pointed arch above her brow, and allowed the silver knob of her
hair to escape behind, gave her a late nineteenth century dignity.
Before leaving the house she took two volumes from her shelves--read
first in one, then in the other--sat pensive for a while, with head
bent and eyes shaded--after which she replaced her books, turned the
key in her door, and set forth for Brooklyn Bridge.

Chapter XXIII

"Why you should hold me responsible," Barbara was saying, "I can't
begin to imagine. Surely I've done everything I could to simplify
matters, to straighten them out, and to give you a chance to rectify
your folly. I've effaced myself; I've broken my heart; I've promised
Aunt Marion to go in for a job for which I'm not fitted and don't care
a rap; and yet you come here, accusing me----"

"But, Barbe, I'm _not_ accusing you! If I'm accusing anyone it's
myself. Only I can't speak without your taking me up----"

"There you go! Oh, Rash, dear, if you'd only been able to control
yourself nothing of this would have happened--not from the first."

She was pacing up and down the little reception room, and rubbing her
hands together, while the twisting of the fish-tail of her
hydrangea-colored robe, like an eel in agony, emphasized her
agitation. Rashleigh was seated, his elbows on his knees, his head
bowed between his hands, of which the fingers clutched and tore at the
masses of his hair. Only when he spoke did he lift his woe-begone
black eyes.

"Well, I didn't control myself," he admitted, impatiently; "that's
settled. Why go back to it? The question is----"

"Yes; why go back to it? That's you all over, Rash. You can do what no
one else in his senses would ever think of doing; and when you've
upset the whole apple cart it must never be referred to again. I'm to
accept, and keep silence. Well, I've _kept_ silence. I've gone all
winter like a muzzled dog. I've wheedled that girl, and kow-towed to
her, and made her think I was fond of her--which I am in a way--you
may not believe it, but I am--and what's the result? She gets sick of
the whole business; runs away; and you come here and throw the whole
blame on me."

He tried to speak with special calmness. "Barbe, listen to me. What I
said was this----"

She came to a full stop in front of him, her arms outspread. "Oh,
Rash, dear, I know perfectly w