“I would not meet him for any earthly consideration.  After what the doctor told me to-day, I should throw myself out of the window, I think, if I heard him coming upstairs.  I should like to see him, if I were placed where he could not see me; but face him I could not.”

“Well, my dear, I think it’s right silly of you, though the little stranger—­it will be a regular stranger—­is a difficulty:  there’s no two ways about that.”

“Besides, I have been thinking over things alone in my room; and I see that it is better for him to be free.  I know he was disappointed in me.  He is not the sort of man to be tied down to such an ignorant woman as I.”

“What does he expect from a woman?  If youre not good enough for him, he must be very hard to please.”

Marian shook her head.  “He is capable of pitying and being considerate with me,” she said:  “I know that.  But I am not sure that it is a good thing to be pitied and forborne with.  There is something humiliating in it.  I suppose I am proud, as you often tell me; but I should like to be amongst women what he is amongst men, supported by my own strength.  Even within the last three weeks I have felt myself becoming more independent in my isolation.  I was afraid to go about the streets by myself at first.  Now I am getting quite brave.  That unfortunate woman did me good.  Taking care of her, and being relied on so much by her, has made me rely on myself more.  Thanks to you, I have not much loneliness to complain of.  And yet I have been utterly cast down sometimes.  I cannot tell what is best.  Sometimes I think that independence is worth all the solitary struggling it costs.  Then again I remember how free from real care I was at home, and yearn to be back there.  It is so hard to know what one ought to do.”

“You have been more lively since you got such a pleasant answer to your telegram.  I wish the General would offer to let me keep my own money and as much more as I wanted.  Not that he is close-fisted, poor man!  That reminds me to tell you that you must stay the evening.  He wants to see you as bad as can be—­never stops asking me to bring you up some time when he’s at home.  You mustnt excuse yourself:  the General will see you safe back to your place.”

“But if visitors come, Mrs. Crawford?”

“Nobody will come.  If they do, they will be glad to see you.  What do they know about you?  You cant live like a hermit all your life.”

Marian, sooner than go back to Mrs. Myers’s, stayed; and the evening passed pleasantly enough, although three visitors came:  a gentleman, with his wife and brother.  The lady, besides eating, and replying to the remarks with which Mrs. Crawford occasionally endeavored to entertain her, did nothing but admire Marian’s dress and listen to her conversation.  Her husband was polite; but Marian, comparing him with the English gentlemen of her acquaintance, thought him rather oppressively respectful, and too