Betty, the maid, had told her that her young mistress had been ill and sleepless all night, that she had sobbed herself into a high fever; but Mrs. Howard’s anger had hardened her heart, and, without going near poor Fair, she had answered hastily: “Let her suffer, then, for she richly deserves it.” Betty was so devoted to her mistress that she angrily reported those words to her, and Fair wept more than ever when she realized that her friend and benefactress had hardened her heart against her. She had not undressed all night, and when Mrs. Howard entered the room she was lying on a sofa in the crushed and rumpled white silk tea gown, with her magnificent, rippling, red-gold tresses falling to her waist in rich disorder. Her face was very pale, and the light of the beautiful brown eyes was dimmed by the rivers of tears she had shed. “Oh, mother!” she exclaimed piteously, half extending her arms; but the lady frowned, and said stiffly: “Your husband, Prince Gonzaga, desires to see you.” Instantly the beautiful face grew ghastly with fear, and Fair almost shrieked out: “I cannot see him! I will not!” Mrs. Howard’s lip curled contemptuously as she answered: “You need not look so frightened. Your husband does not contemplate any further violence. He would not have attempted any last night only that he had been led to believe you a wicked woman. Since I have taken pains to disabuse his mind of that erroneous impression, he regrets his actions of last night, and declares that he is ready and anxious to forgive the past and make up his quarrel with you.” But the wretched girl only cowered in more abject terror at those words, moaning out: “Oh, I wish you had let him go on thinking me wicked! I do not want to make up my quarrel with him. I had rather have his hate than his love.” “Was this acting?” Mrs. Howard asked herself. If so, it was very clever indeed, and the lady scarce knew what to say in answer. But she remembered that the impetuous husband was waiting most impatiently to hear from Fair, so she said curtly: “You are talking wicked nonsense, Fair, and you will find that Prince Gonzaga is determined to enforce your wifely obedience. So you had better make up your mind to live with him, and to be thankful that he is willing to forgive your past bad conduct.” She felt that she ought to say these precise words to the girl, yet she felt abashed somehow by the big, pathetic eyes Fair fixed on her face. She had stopped weeping, and her tearless misery was far more pitiful, as she faltered: “I will never live with him! He was the cause of my mother’s death. Her grave lies between us.” “He has explained all that to me. It is nonsense to accuse him of that. She had heart disease, and her death was liable to occur at any time,” Mrs. Howard returned coldly. “If only you would let me explain everything, you would take my part against this wretch,” Fair faltered, with some faint hope of pity; but Mrs. Howard shook her head.