"Who told you?" "I may not disclose his name." "But you shall," said I, stepping in front of her. "You shall tell me! He has lied to you foully, and you owe him therefore no consideration or respect. He has lied concerning me. I have a clear right to know his name, that I may convince you of the lie, and reckon with him for his slander. Confront us both, and yourself be present as the judge!" Of a sudden she held out her hand to me. "Your sincerity convinces me. I need no other proof, and I crave your pardon for my suspicion." I looked into her face, amazed at the sudden change. But there was no mistaking her conviction or the joy which it occasioned her. I saw a light in her eyes, dancing and sparkling, which I had never envisaged before, and which filled me with exquisite happiness. "Still," I said, as I took her hand, "I would fain prove my words to you." "Can you not trust me at all?" She had a wonderful knack of putting me in the wrong when I was on the side of the right, and before I could find a suitable reply she slipped out of my grasp, and crossing the room, took in her hand the cup of wine. "Now," said she, "I will pledge you, Mr. Buckler;" which she did very prettily, and handed the cup to me. As I raised it to my lips, however, an idea occurred to me. "It is you who refuse to pledge me," she said. "Nay, nay," said I, and I drained the cup. "But I have just guessed who my traducer is." She looked perplexed for a moment. "You have guessed who----" she began, in an accent of wonder. "Who gave you the picture," I explained. She stared at me in pure astonishment. "You can hardly have guessed accurately, then," she remarked. "Surely," said I, "it needs no magician to discover the giver. I know but one man in London who can hope to gain aught by slandering me to you." Ilga gave a start of alarm. It seemed almost as though I were telling her news, as though she did not know herself who gave her the picture; and for the rest of my visit she appeared absent and anxious. This was particularly mortifying to me, since I thought the occasion too apt to be lost, and I was minded to open my heart to her. Indeed, I began the preface of a love-speech in spite of her preoccupation, but sticking for lack of encouragement after half-a-dozen words or so, I perceived that she was not even listening to what I said. Consequently I took my leave with some irritation, marvelling at the flighty waywardness of a woman's thoughts, and rather inclined to believe that the properest age for a man to marry was his ninetieth year, for then he might perchance have sufficient experience to understand some portion of his wife's behaviour and whimsies. My mortification was not of a lasting kind, for Ilga came out on to the landing while I was still descending the stairs. "You do not know who gave me the picture," she said, entreating me; and she came down two of the steps. "It would be exceeding strange if I did not," said I, stopping.