“My dear Hubert,” said the young lady, “what is she doing here? I have a right to know. Have you come running after him even here? You are a wicked girl. You have done me a wrong. You have tried to turn him away from me. You kept him in Boston for weeks, when he ought to have been here; when I was writing to him day after day to come. I heard all about it! I don’t know what is the matter with you. I thought you were so very well off! You look very poor and unhappy, but I must say what I think!” “My own darling, be reasonable!” murmured her mother. “Come and look at this beautiful picture. There’s no deceit in that noble face!” Nora smiled charitably. “Don’t attack me,” she said. “If I ever wronged you, I was quite unconscious of it, and I beg your pardon now.” “Nora,” murmured Hubert, piteously, “spare me!” “Ah, does he call you Nora?” cried the young lady. “The harm’s done, madam! He will never be what he was. You have changed, Hubert!” And she turned passionately upon her intended. “You know you have! You talk to me, but you think of her. And what is the meaning of this visit? You are both strangely excited; what have you been talking about?” “Mr. Lawrence has been telling me about you,” said Nora: “how pretty, how charming, how gentle you are!” “I am not gentle!” cried the other. “You are laughing at me! Was it to talk about my prettiness you came here? Do you go about alone, this way? I never heard of such a thing. You are shameless! do you know that? But I am very glad of it; because once you have done this for him, he will not care for you. That’s the way with men. And I am not pretty either, not as you are! You are pale and tired; you have got a horrid dress and shawl, and yet you are beautiful! Is that the way I must look to please you?” she demanded, turning back to Hubert. Hubert, during this rancorous _tirade_, had stood looking as dark as thunder, and at this point he broke out fiercely, “Good God, Amy! hold your tongue,—I command you.” Nora, gathering her shawl together, gave Hubert a glance. “She loves you,” she said, softly. Amy stared a moment at this vehement adjuration; then she melted into a smile and turned in ecstasy to her mother. “O, did you hear that?” she cried. “That’s how I like him. Please say it again!” Nora left the room; and, in spite of her gesture of earnest deprecation, Hubert followed her downstairs to the street. “Where are you going?” he asked in a whisper. “With whom are you staying?” “I am alone,” said Nora. “Alone in this great city? Nora, I _will_ do something for you.” “Hubert,” she said, “I never in my life needed help less than at this moment. Farewell.” He fancied for an instant that she was going to offer him her hand, but she only motioned him to open the door. He did so, and she passed out.