“I was aware that it was not dead when you married a man worth a thousand such scoundrels as that fellow in Philadelphia. I believed that the sentiment was powerful in impelling you to that marriage, and that this irrevocable measure would be an antidote to the evil. It was a wise course, and I commended you for pursuing it. But I am too well read in your countenance and moods not to see that there is something far amiss with you. You have been playing a part for twenty-four hours, and you have played it wretchedly. Your nervous flutters and laugh, your sudden changes of complexion, and the incoherence of your language, would betray you to the least penetrating observer. I caution you to be on your guard lest your husband should take just offence at all this. The need of dissimulation is the evidence that something is radically wrong in your moral nature, and is derogatory to your lawful partner. I am ashamed to remind you of the golden maxim of wedded life--that without perfect and mutual confidence there can be no substantial happiness. Does Dorrance know of your escapade at the Springs?” “If you refer to my engagement to Mr. Chilton, I told him of it before our marriage.” “I rejoice to hear it--am pleased at this one proof of good sense and right feeling,” in lofty patronage. “You owed him no less. You have, without doubt been informed long since how I obtained the most important proof against that villain?” “I have not heard Mr. Chilton's name in a year until yesterday,” said Mabel, the scarlet spots ceasing to flicker, and her voice hard as was his own. Unable to interpret her sudden steadiness of demeanor and accent, Winston leaped to the irritating conclusion that she was sullen, and meditated a defiant retreat from this untimely usurpation of his olden authority. “It was injudicious--miserably ill-judged in Dorrance not to acquaint you with this. I have always feared lest his indulgence might not be the most salutary method of repressing your self-will and pride of opinion. You, more than any other woman I know, require the tight rein of vigilant discipline. I intimated as much to Dorrance when he asked my consent to your engagement. But this is his lookout, not mine. What I began to say was that, in MY opinion, he would have acted more sensibly had he not encouraged your squeamish repugnance to talking of your early fault and its mortifying consequences.” “Fortunately for me, my husband is a man of feeling and delicacy!” Mabel was goaded to boast. “I said to him, the evening of our betrothal, that the subject you have chosen to revive to-night was painful to me, and he has respected the reluctance you condemn.”