Two weeks later she sat huddled over the fire in the library. Her face was yellow; her eyes were sunken and dull; her hands trembled. She looked thirty-five.

In her lap lay a letter from Dudley Thorpe. He and his brother, at the risk of their lives, had got through the lines and reached New York. The excitement, fatigue, and exposure had nearly killed Harold, who was in a hospital in a precarious condition. Thorpe could not leave him. He implored her to come on to New York at once; and he had never written a more tender and passionate letter.

Cochrane opened the door, and announced that Dr. Clough had called.

“Tell him to come here,” she said.

Dr. Clough wore his usual jaunty air, and he made no comment on her appearance; he had come straight from Miss Shropshire.

“Sit down,” said Nina, curtly, interrupting his demonstrations. “You come at the right moment. I was about to send for you.”

“My dear cousin Nina! I hope there is no—”

“Let me talk, please. Do you wish to marry me?”

Clough caught his breath. He flushed, despite his nerve. “Of course I do,” he stammered. “What a question! Certainly there never was a woman so original. It is like you to settle matters in your own way.”

“Don’t delude yourself for a moment that I even like you. Of all the men I have ever known, the sort of person I take you to be has my most unmitigated contempt. It is for that reason I marry you. I must marry some one at once to keep myself from ruining the life of Dudley Thorpe. I choose you, because, in the first place, I am so vile a thing that no punishment is severe enough for me; and, in the second, Fate has acquitted herself so brilliantly in regard to my humble self that I feel a certain satisfaction in giving her all she wants.”

“My dear Nina, you are morbid.” He spoke pleasantly, but he turned away his eyes.

“Possibly; it would be somewhat remarkable if I were not. Do you still wish to marry me?”

“Certainly. I do not take your rather uncomplimentary utterances seriously. In your present frame of mind—”

“It is the only frame of mind I shall ever be in. You will have an unpleasant domestic life; but you will have all the money you want. Don’t flatter yourself for a moment that you will either control or cure me. You will be no more in my house than a well-paid butler—after my father has been induced to accept you, which will not be in a hurry. Meanwhile, you will probably beat me: you are quite capable of it; but you may save yourself the exertion.”

“I shall not beat you, Nina, dear.” He spoke softly, with an assumption of masculine indulgence; but his small pointed teeth moved suddenly apart.

“You will understand, of course, that this engagement must not get to my father’s ears. He would lock me up before he would permit me to marry you. He has all the contempt of the gentleman for the cad, of the real man for the bundle of petty imitations: and you are his pet aversion. On the tenth, he is obliged to go to San JosÉ to attend an important law-suit. He will be detained not less than three days. We shall marry on the eleventh—at Mrs. Lester’s. I shall not tell my mother, for I will not give her the pleasure of conspiring against my father. I suppose that I shall break my father’s heart; but I don’t know that I care. He might have saved me, if he had been stronger, and I am no longer capable of loving any one—”

“Suppose Mr. Thorpe should come out here after you, anyhow, married or not.”

“He will do nothing of the sort. One reason you would be incapable of understanding, should I attempt to explain; the other is, that he will no longer want me after I have been the wife of a person of your sort.”

“My word, Nina, you are rather rough on a fellow; but give me a kiss, and I’ll overlook it.”

She lifted her face, and let him kiss her, then struck him so violent a blow that the little man staggered.

“Now go,” she said, “and don’t let me see you again until the eleventh. If you have anything to say, you can write it to Molly Shropshire.”

When he had gone, she drew her hand across her lips, then looked closely at it as if expecting to see a stain. Then she shuddered, and huddled closer to the fire, and in a few moments threw Dudley Thorpe’s letter on the coals.