But no.  She could not resent the insult of so aged a man; even if he had not been her grandfather.

Rose Stillwater said never a word.  It was not—­it would not have been prudent to speak.  To treat the matter as a jest would have offended the Iron King; to have taken it seriously would most justly and unpardonably have offended Corona Rothsay.  Truly, Rose found that “Jordan am a hard road to trabbel!” And here at least was an apt application of the old proverb: 

“Speech is silver, silence is golden.”  So Rose said never a word, but looked from one to the other, smiling divinely on each in turn.

Old Aaron Rockharrt having discharged his shot, went down stairs, entered his carriage and drove to Wall Street.

Corona went to her room, or to the room she jointly occupied with Mrs. Stillwater, wishing from the depths of her heart that she could get entirely away from the sight and hearing of the woman who grew more repugnant to her feelings every day.  At one time Cora thought that she would call a carriage, drive to the Hudson River railway station, and take the train for West Point, there to remain during the exercises of the academy.  She was very strongly tempted to do this; but she resisted the impulse.  She would not bring matters to a crisis by making a scene.  So the idea of escaping to West Point was abandoned.  Next she thought of taking a carriage and driving out to Harlem alone; but then she remembered that the woman Stillwater was, after all, her guest, so long as she herself was mistress, if only in name, of her grandfather’s house; she could not leave her alone for the whole day; and so the idea of evading the creature’s company by driving out alone was also given up.

Truly, Cora was bound to the rack with cords of conventionality as fine as cobwebs, yet as strong as ropes.

She did nothing but sit still in her chamber and brood; dreading the entrance of her abhorrent room-mate every moment.

But Rose Stillwater—­who read Cora Rothsay’s thoughts as easily as she could read a familiar book—­acted with her usual discretion.  As long as Cora chose to remain in their joint chamber, Rose forbore to exercise her own right of entering it.

Not until the afternoon did Corona come out into the parlor.  Then she found Rose seated at the window, watching the busy scene on the Broadway pavement below, the hurried promenaders jostling as they passed each other on going up and coming down; the street peddlers, the walking advertisements, and all other sights never noticed by a citizen of the town, but looked at with curiosity by a stranger from the country.

Rose turned as Corona entered, and ignoring all reserve, said sweetly: 

“I hope you have been resting, dear, and that you feel refreshed.  Shall I ring and order luncheon?  I wish to do all I can, dear, to prove my appreciation of all the kindness shown me; yet not to be officious.”