
which seemed independent of supernatural belief; but shame always restrained
her. It would be the same as confessing that she had not really the liberty to
which she pretended. There was, however, an indirect way of approaching the
subject, by which her dignity would possibly be rather enhanced than suffer; and
this she at length took. After her return from the Palazzo Borghese, she was
beset with a confusion of anxious thoughts. The need of confidential or
semi-confidential speech with one of her own sex became irresistible. In the
evening she found an opportunity of speaking privately with Eleanor.
    »I want to ask your opinion about something. It's a question I am obliged to
decide now I am going back to England.«
    Eleanor smiled inquiringly. She was not a little curious to have a glimpse
into her cousin's mind just now.
    »You remember,« pursued Miriam, leaning forward on a table by which she sat,
and playing with a twisted piece of paper, »that I once had the silly desire to
build a chapel at Bartles.«
    She reddened in hearing the words upon her own lips - so strange a sound
they had after all this time.
    »I remember you talked of doing so,« replied Eleanor, with her usual quiet
good-nature.
    »Unfortunately, I did more than talk about it. I made a distinct promise to
certain people gravely interested. The promise was registered in a Bartles
newspaper. And you know that I went so far as to have my plans made.«
    »Do you feel bound by this promise, my dear?«
    Miriam propped her cheek on one hand, and with the other kept rolling the
piece of paper on the table.
    »Yes,« she answered, »I can't help thinking that I ought to keep my word.
How does it strike you, Eleanor?«
    »I am not quite clear how you regard the matter. Are you speaking of the
promise only as a promise?«
    It was no use. Miriam could not tell the truth; she could not confess her
position. At once a smile trembled scornfully upon her lips.
    »What else could I mean?«
    »Then it seems to me that the obligation has passed away with the
circumstances that occasioned it.«
    Miriam kept her eyes on the table, and for a few moments seemed to reflect.
    »A promise is a promise, Eleanor.«
    »So it is. And a fact is a fact. I take it for granted that you are no
longer the person who made the promise
