"What!" I say, very low. "You dare offer an honest woman the hand of a forger? Has not even your varied experience taught you the gulf that lies between the two? You do my father's house far too much honour, madam. But, since you are here, I will ask your permission to retire."
As I pass her she lays her hand upon my skirts.
"You shall not go," she says quietly. "I came here to speak to you, and I will."
I cannot struggle with this woman, so I stand still perforce, scornful and silent, while she scans my face with an intentness that I can feel.
"You are very much altered," she says, slowly. "You are not very pretty now. What my husband saw in you I never could imagine."
In spite of my anger I break into a hearty joyous laugh.
"It is very strange, is it not? For you really are a far better looking woman, and yet he preferred me." Some wicked spirit ever waits on me, and informs me how best to irritate Silvia. Her eyes darken and flame under mine like those of a furious animal. I never saw so fair a face so apt at illustrating ugly passions. "If you have anything to say to me," I continue, contemptuously, "release me and say it; it won't trouble me."
For a moment she draws her breath hard, looks at me under her drawn brows, then releases me. "Perhaps you wonder at my coming here?" she asks, sinking into an easy chair.
"Very much," I answer, laconically. (What a nerve the woman has!)
"Your father made a great point of my coming. He does not know the relations that formerly subsisted between you and my husband, I think?"
"No, or your share in the matter. You would not have been
