“No, no, please not,” said Grace, in no little agitation.  “Let me take your word for that, as you have taken mine.  Oh, sir, he is nothing to me compared with what I thought you wished to say to me.  But it is I who must find the courage to say things that will wound you and me still more.  Colonel Clifford, pray do not be angry with me till you know all, but indeed your house is not the place for my father or for me.”

“Why not, madam,” said the Colonel, stiffly, “since you are my daughter-in-law?”

She did not reply.

“Ah!” said he, coloring high and rising from his chair.  He began to walk the room in some agitation.  “You are right,” said he; “I once affronted you cruelly, unpardonably.  Still, pray consider that you passed for Bartley’s daughter; that was my objection to you, and then I did not know your character.  But when I saw you come out pale and resolved to sacrifice yourself to justice and another woman, that converted me at once.  Ask Julia what I said about you.”

“I must interrupt you,” said Grace.  “I can not let such a man as you excuse yourself to a girl of eighteen who has nothing but reverence for you, and would love you if she dared.”

“Then all I can say is that you are very mysterious, my dear, and I wish you would speak out.”

“I shall speak out soon enough,” said Grace, solemnly, “now I have begun.  Colonel Clifford, you have nothing to reproach yourself with.  No more have I, for that matter.  Yet we must both suffer.”  She hesitated a moment, and then said, firmly, “You do me the honor to approve my conduct in that dreadful situation.  Did you hear all that passed? did you take notice of all I said?”

“I did,” said Colonel Clifford.  “I shall never forget that scene, nor the distress, nor the fortitude of her I am proud to call my daughter.”

Grace put her hands before her face at these kind words, and he saw the tears trickle between her white fingers.  He began to wonder, and to feel uneasy.  But the brave girl shook off her tears, and manned herself, if we may use such an expression.

“Then, sir,” said she, slowly and emphatically, though quietly, “did you not think it strange that I should say to my father, ’I don’t know?’ He asked me before you all, ‘Are you a wife?’ Twice I said to my father—­to him I thought was my father—­’I don’t know.’  Can you account for that, sir?”

The Colonel replied, “I was so unable to account for it that I took Julia Clifford’s opinion on it directly, as we were going home.”

“And what did she say?”

“Oh, she said it was plain enough.  The fellow had forbidden you to own the marriage, and you were an obedient wife; and, like women in general, strong against other people, but weak against one.”

“So that is a woman’s reading of a woman,” said Grace.  “She will sacrifice her honor, and her father’s respect, and court the world’s contempt, and sully herself for life, to suit the convenience of a husband for a few hours.  My love is great, but it is not slavish or silly.  Do you think, sir, that I doubted for one moment Walter Clifford would own me when he came home and heard what I had suffered?  Did I think him so unworthy of my love as to leave me under that stigma?  Hardly.  Then why should I blacken Mrs. Walter Clifford for an afternoon, just to be unblackened at night?”