Cora paused to wait for the effect of her words.

Mr. Fabian drove on slowly in silence.

“I sat there quite still, too much surprised to speak or move.”

“And so you overheard that interview,” said Mr. Fabian, with a dash of anger in his usually pleasant voice.

“I could not escape.  I was amazed, spellbound, too confused to know what to do.”

“Well?”

“I gathered from your words that you and she were either secretly married or secretly engaged to be married.”

“That was your opinion.”

“What other opinion could I form?  You were providing her with a house and an income.  She was speaking of herself as a daughter-in-law sure to be acceptable to your father and mother.  Of course, I judged from that that you were either wedded or betrothed, which was an incomprehensible thing to me, who had been led to believe that the lady was the wife of Captain Stillwater, remaining in Baltimore to meet her husband, whose ship was then daily expected to arrive.”

“You were wrong, Cora,” said Mr. Fabian, now speaking in his natural tone without a shade of anger—­quite wrong, my dear; there was nothing of the sort.  I was never engaged to Mrs. Stillwater.”

“Then she subsequently refused you.  I am telling you what I thought then, not what I think now.  I have heard from her own lips that after her husband’s death you proposed to her and she refused you.”

Mr. Fabian shook with silent laughter.  When he recovered he asked: 

“And you believed her?”

“I do not know.  I was in a maze.  There were so many contradictory and inconsistent circumstances surrounding the woman that seemed to live and move in a web of deception woven by herself,” said Cora, wearily, as if tired of the subject.

“And, after all, she is a very shallow creature, incapable of any deep scheming; there is no great harm.  She knows that she is beautiful—­still beautiful—­and her only art is subtle flattery.  She flattered your grandfather ‘to the bent of his humor,’ with no deeper design than to marry him and gain a luxurious home and an ample dower, as well as an adoring husband.  You see she has succeeded in marrying him, poor little devil! but she has gained nothing but a prison and a jailer and penal servitude.  I repeat, there is no great harm in her; and yet, Cora, my dear, I do not permit my wife to visit her, and I do not wish you to remain in the same house with her.”

“Why, Uncle Fabian! you were the very first to introduce her to us!  It was you who were charged with the duty of finding a nursery governess for me, and you selected Rose Flowers from a host of applicants.”

“I know I did, my dear.  She seemed to me a lovely, amiable, attractive girl of seventeen, not very well educated, yet quite old enough and learned enough to be nursery governess to a little lady of seven summers.  And she did her duty and made herself beloved by you all, did she not?”