“Your anger, your hatred, were far more welcome, Miriam—­more natural under the circumstances.  This cool philosophy in one so young is monstrous!  Mock me no longer with your calm compassion—­it maddens me—­it sinks me below contempt!”

He spoke gloomily, angrily, pushing away the clustering hair from his brow in the way peculiar to him when excited, as he proceeded, stamping slightly with his foot on the marble hearthstone in his impotent way.  I could but smile!

“I will not offend you further, Claude,” I said, mildly.  “Receive your ring;” and I gave him back the diamond cross on a black enamel ground set on its circle of gold that he had placed upon my finger as a pledge of our betrothal; an ominous one, surely—­for another cross was now to be borne.

“Understand me distinctly, Claude, all is finally at an end between us from this forever more!  And now, farewell!”

“Go, Miriam, go!” he murmured.  “Leave me to my fate—­I have deserved it all, and more.  I have been weak and wicked—­you shall not find me ungrateful.  Go, queenly spirit! go, soul of tenderness, pity, and most unselfish faith, that ever folded its wings in human breast! go, and find a fitter mate!  For me, the world is wide, I shall offend your gaze no more.”

Without another word I left him.  I could not trust myself to speak.  Too much of the past returned to render any further intercourse between us wise, or other than torture at that season.  Besides, my confidence in him was gone forever, and with it had vanished respect, esteem, affection!

CHAPTER VI.

“What is this Claude is talking of, Miriam?” asked Mr. Bainrothe a day or two after the interview I have described in my last pages.  “Copenhagen again—­and he seems quite dispirited.  He says you have sent him into banishment for a year, Miriam—­a long probation truly!”

“Our engagement was to have been for that length of time from the first,” I said, evasively; “my father was not willing for me to marry before I had attained my seventeenth year, you remember, and it still wants some months of that period.”

“Oh, yes! but all that is changed now by the force of circumstances.  You are so well grown, so very womanly for your age, that I cannot see why it would not be just as well to shorten rather than lengthen the period of your engagement, especially as it seems Claude must go into exile until then, by some caprice of yours.  You will be at the head of your own house too, after that ceremony takes place, which Claude is so impatient to have over.  Evelyn would go to England for a time under such circumstances, for she will not oppose your views—­your father’s will was made before your betrothal to my son, or he would scarcely have made her your absolute guardian” (apologetically spoken).  “For the matter of that,” he pursued, “I cannot doubt that, were you settled in life, she would gladly transfer Mabel to your care.  Indeed, I have heard her say as much.”