anger was gone from his voice. I had frightened it away.

"Have you?" I asked scornfully. "You have treated me with such marked coldness, that even my maid, Marie, has been gossiping with the other servants about it."

Ah, I had made a mistake. I knew it the moment the words were out of my mouth.

"She has, has she?" he exclaimed in a towerng rage. "She shall leave the house to-night. I will not pay a pack of drones to gossip about me. She shall go, and this minute, too."

"She shall not. If she leaves your house " (I was beside myself with rage and excitement, and was hardly accountable for what I said) " I will go too."

"Elsie!" There was actual fear in his voice. He looked so handsome as these varied emotions stirred him, that—alas! that I should say it—I felt that my indignation could not last mach longer. As he uttered my name, he looked at me earnestly, and with a pained, wearied gaze. I began to feel sorry for him. Despise me, readers,