“You will be so good as to listen to Mr. Mallet,” her mother said, in a terrible voice, “and to reflect carefully upon what he says. I suppose you will admit that he is disinterested. In half an hour you shall hear from me again!” And passing her hand through the Cavaliere’s arm, she swept rapidly out of the room. Christina looked hard at Rowland, but offered him no greeting. She was very pale, and, strangely enough, it at first seemed to Rowland that her beauty was in eclipse. But he very soon perceived that it had only changed its character, and that if it was a trifle less brilliant than usual, it was admirably touching and noble. The clouded light of her eyes, the magnificent gravity of her features, the conscious erectness of her head, might have belonged to a deposed sovereign or a condemned martyr. “Why have you come here at this time?” she asked. “Your mother sent for me in pressing terms, and I was very glad to have an opportunity to speak to you.” “Have you come to help me, or to persecute me?” “I have as little power to do one as I have desire to do the other. I came in great part to ask you a question. First, your decision is irrevocable?” Christina’s two hands had been hanging clasped in front of her; she separated them and flung them apart by an admirable gesture. “Would you have done this if you had not seen Miss Garland?” She looked at him with quickened attention; then suddenly, “This is interesting!” she cried. “Let us have it out.” And she flung herself into a chair and pointed to another. “You don’t answer my question,” Rowland said. “You have no right, that I know of, to ask it. But it ‘s a very clever one; so clever that it deserves an answer. Very likely I would not.” “Last night, when I said that to myself, I was extremely angry,” Rowland rejoined. “Oh, dear, and you are not angry now?” “I am less angry.” “How very stupid! But you can say something at least.” “If I were to say what is uppermost in my mind, I would say that, face to face with you, it is never possible to condemn you.” “Perche?” “You know, yourself! But I can at least say now what I felt last night. It seemed to me that you had consciously, cruelly dealt a blow at that poor girl. Do you understand?” “Wait a moment!” And with her eyes fixed on him, she inclined her head on one side, meditatively. Then a cold, brilliant smile covered her face, and she made a gesture of negation. “I see your train of reasoning, but it ‘s quite wrong. I meant no harm to Miss Garland; I should be extremely sorry to make her suffer. Tell me you believe that.” This was said with ineffable candor. Rowland heard himself answering, “I believe it!”