Mrs. Marston, although she sometimes rebuked these artful affronts by a grave look, a cold tone, or a distant manner, yet had too much dignity to engage in a petty warfare of annoyance, and had, in reality, no substantial and well-defined ground of complaint against her, such as would have warranted her either in taking the young lady herself to task, or in bringing her conduct under the censure of Marston.

One evening, it happened that Mrs. Marston and Mademoiselle de Barras had been left alone together.  After the supper-party had dispersed, they had been for a long time silent.  Mrs. Marston resolved to improve the Tate-a-Tate, for the purpose of eliciting from mademoiselle an explanation of her strange behavior.

“Mademoiselle,” said she, “I have lately observed a very marked change in your conduct to me.”

“Indeed!” said the Frenchwoman.

“Yes, mademoiselle; you must be yourself perfectly aware of that change; it is a studied and intentional one,” continued Mrs. Marston, in a gentle but dignified tone.  “Although I have felt some doubt as to whether it were advisable, so long as you observe toward me the forms of external respect, and punctually discharge the duties you have undertaken, to open any discussion whatever upon the subject; yet I have thought it better to give you a fair opportunity of explaining frankly, should you desire to do so, the feelings and impressions under which you are acting.”

“Ah, you are very obliging, madame,” said she, coolly.

“It is quite clear, mademoiselle, that you have either misunderstood me, or that you are dissatisfied with your situation among us:  your conduct cannot otherwise be accounted for,” said Mrs. Marston, gravely.

“My conduct—­ma foi! what conduct?” retorted the handsome Frenchwoman, confidently, and with a disdainful glance.

“If you question the fact, mademoiselle,” said the elder lady, “it is enough.  Your ungracious manner and ungentle looks, I presume, arise from what appears to you a sufficient and well-defined cause, of which, however, I know nothing.”

“I really was not aware,” said Mademoiselle de Barras, with a supercilious smile, “that my looks and my manner were subjected to so strict a criticism, or that it was my duty to regulate both according to so nice and difficult a standard.”

“Well, mademoiselle,” continued Mrs. Marston, “it is plain that whatever may be the cause of your dissatisfaction, you are resolved against confiding it to me.  I only wish to know frankly from your own lips, whether you have formed a wish to leave this situation.  If so, I entreat you to declare it freely.”

“You are very obliging, indeed, madame,” said the pretty foreigner, drily, “but I have no such wish, at least at present.”

“Very well, mademoiselle,” replied Mrs. Marston, with gentle dignity; “I regret your want of candor, on your own account.  You would, I am sure, be much happier, were you to deal frankly with me.”