"I—because it is horrible to hear you talk so," said Miss Lawrence, quickly recovering herself, for she shrank, if Valentine did not, from a crossing of words, as it was known by all in the house that the young Brazilian was jealous of her. "Val does not mean it," said Edward, soothingly. "I do mean it. What right had she to come between them—to use all her smooth little ways and arts to make him faithless? Yes, by all means, Hebe should have feasted upon her first." She glanced at her lover, but he was looking intently across the sunlit cotton-fields to the shining sweep of the river, apparently not in the least interested in the conversation. Then she looked around on the disapproving faces of the other women. "You may all look shocked, but I am different from you only in the expression of my thoughts. There is an untamed savage in every heart, no matter how finely the owner of that heart may be civilized, how highly polished." "There is also a spirit of divinity, Miss Dugarre," said Mark Livingston, the young Charleston lawyer, in his grave, calm voice. "But in some unguarded moment, some crisis, the savage conquers all. It is easy to be good until one is deceived or thwarted." "But what cause have you to talk like a disappointed, soured woman of the world, Valentine?" her cousin exclaimed, a little impatiently. "Oh, none whatever, of course." But a note of bitterness thrilled her sweet voice, and her jealous eyes saw the glance Helen Lawrence exchanged with Frank Black. She bit her full under-lip, until the blood almost started. "You believe, then, that the evil in human nature is stronger than the good?" said Livingston. "I do; for is it not true that many a lifetime of noble deeds has been wrecked in a moment of passion, the man stripped of his goodness, as of a garment, leaving the naked savage, fierce, revengeful?" "But if there are such instances, so we can as easily recall others, where men and women, in moments of supreme sorrow or danger, have so far risen above all personal feeling as to be willing, nay, eager, to help their worst enemies." She turned to her lover, "What do you think, Frank?" "That it is too warm for argument, and that Ed might have selected less tragical reading for our amusement." He laughed a little as he spoke, to give a jesting turn to his words, and, rising, walked away into the hall. Valentine’s eyes flashed with anger, but in a moment she rose and followed him into the cool, duskily shadowed library. "Dearest, did I disgust you with my savage talk?" "I do not like such sentiments from you, Valentine. It does not sound womanly, and those people criticise you severely enough as it is." Her eyes darkened again; her lips curled. "What do I care for their good opinion!" "It is well for us to care for everybody’s good opinion."