"Well, really, what have I done?" The sharp voice of the woman returned to combat as soon as the accusation pricked her into anger. "I’m sure I helped you to get a wife you seemed to want bad enough and never would have got if I hadn’t managed affairs. You haven’t any idea how hard she was to manage or you’d understand. It was a very trying situation, and it isn’t every woman could have made things go as well as I did—not to have a soul outside your family know there had been a change of bridegrooms. You see, none of our friends had ever seen your brother, and as the name was the same there were no explanations necessary." "Mrs. Van Rensselaer, I would never have married Dawn against her will. It was not right for you to deceive her. She ought to have been told just how things stood, and what my brother had done." "H’m! And had a pretty mess, with her crying and saying she wouldn’t marry anybody, and all the wedding guests coming? Young man, you don’t know what you’re talking about. That girl isn’t easy to manage, and I guess you’ve found it out already. She’s like a flea: when you think you have her, she’s somewhere else. I knew something desperate would have to be done before she ever settled down and accepted life as it had to be, and I did it, that’s all. Well, what’s the matter, any way? Have you got tired of your bargain already and turned her out of your house?" Mrs. Van Rensselaer was exasperated and frightened. She scarcely knew what she was saying. Any moment her husband might come into the house. If she could only get the interview over before he came, and perhaps hide at least a part of the story from him! She dreaded his terrible temper. She had always had an innate presentiment that some time that temper would be let loose against her, and she knew now the moment was come. Charles looked up with his handsome and usually kindly eyes blazing with amazement and indignation: "Mrs. Van Rensselaer, my wife has gone away. We have searched all night and cannot find her. I was sure she had come home. Oh, what shall I do?" "Well, I’m sure I don’t see how I’m to blame for her having left you," snapped out Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I did my part and made sure you got her. You ought to have been able to keep her after you had her. How’d she come to leave you?" "I cannot tell exactly. She went up to see Mother a few minutes after supper, and then——" "Oh!" said Mrs. Van Rensselaer, with disagreeable significance. "And then we could not find her," went on Charles, unheeding. "She left a note with good-by. That was all. I have no clue."