 her; but, in her ignorance of what was happening between
Cecily and her husband, she tried to believe that Mallard was perhaps acting the
part of reconciler - not an unlikely thing, as her better judgment told her. Now
she could no longer listen to such calm suggestions. Cecily had abandoned her
home, and with Mallard's knowledge, if not at his persuasion.
    She thought of Reuben with all but hatred. He was the cause of the despair
which had come upon her. The abhorrence with which she regarded his vices - no
whit less strong for all her changed habits of thought - blended now with the
sense of personal injury; this only had been lacking to destroy what natural
tenderness remained in her feeling towards him. Cecily she hated, without the
power of condemning her as she formerly would have done. The old voice of
conscience was not mute, but Miriam turned from it with sullen scorn. If Cecily
declared her marriage at an end, what fault could reason find with her? If she
acted undisguisedly as a free woman, how was she to blame? Reuben's praise of
her might still keep its truth. And the unwilling conviction of this was one of
Miriam's sharpest torments. She would have liked to regard her with disdainful
condemnation, or a fugitive wife, a dishonoured woman. But the power of
sincerely judging thus was gone. Reuben had taunted her amiss.
    Presently she left her room and went to seek Eleanor. Mrs. Spence was
writing; she laid down her pen, and glanced at Miriam, but did not speak.
    »Cecily has left her home,« Miriam said, with matter-of-fact brevity.
    Eleanor stood up.
    »Parted from him?«
    »It seems he didn't go to the house till late last night. She had left in
the afternoon, and did not come back.«
    »Then they have not met?«
    »No.«
    »And had Cecily heard?«
    »There's no knowing.«
    »Of course, she has gone to Mrs. Lessingham.«
    »I think not,« replied Miriam, turning away.
    »Why?«
    But Miriam would give no definite answer. Neither did she hint at the
special grounds of her suspicion. Presently she left the room as she had
entered, dispirited and indisposed for talk.
    Elgar walked on to the studios. He found Mallard's door, and was beginning
to ascend the stairs, when the artist himself appeared at the top of them, on
the point of going out. He recognized his visitor
