“Which leaves the lady at liberty to suppose what she pleases,” said the first speaker.

“It leaves her at liberty to suppose nothing of the kind!” Rufus rejoined, with a little dilating of the nostril.

“Nothing can constrain my liberty in that respect,” said the lady in question.

“Except your knowledge of human nature?” said Rufus.

“I have no hindrance in that,” said Elizabeth.

“To supposing what you please?”

“Or what pleases you, perhaps,” said the first speaker.

“Anything but that, Mr. Archibald!”

“Then it was no surprise to you that your father should set a young and lovely Mrs. Haye at the head of his establishment, even though he found her in the person of your playmate?”

Elizabeth hesitated; she drew in her under lip, and her eye darkened and lightened; but she hesitated.  Then she spoke, looking down.

“I was surprised.”

“Not a pleasant surprise?” said Mr. Archibald.

The girl’s face literally flashed at him; from her two eyes the fire flew, as if the one would confound the other.

“How dare you ask me the question, sir!”

“Pardon me —­ I had no idea there was any harm in it,” said the person at whom the fire flew.

“Your ideas want correcting, sir, sadly! —­ and your tongue.”

“I will never offend again!” said Mr. Archibald bowing, and smiling a little.

“You never shall, with my good leave.”

Mr. Archibald bowed again.

“Good morning!  You will forgive me; and when I think time enough has elapsed, and I may with safety, I will come again.”

“To visit my father, sir! —­”

Not Queen Elizabeth, with ruff and farthingale, could have said it with more consciousness of her own dignity, or more superb dismission of that of another.  But probably Queen Elizabeth would not have cast upon her courtiers the look, half asking for sympathy and half for approval, with which Elizabeth Haye turned to her companions.  Her eye fell first upon Winthrop.  But his did not meet her, and the expression of his face was very grave.  Elizabeth’s look went from it to Rufus.  His was beaming.

“Capital!” he said.  “That was admirable!”

“No,” said Elizabeth after a slight hesitation, —­ “it was not.”

“I thought it was,” said Rufus, —­ “admirably done.  Why was it not, Miss Haye? —­ if I am not as impertinent as another? —­ I thought he richly deserved his punishment.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth in a dissatisfied kind of way, —­ “enough of that, —­ but I deserved better of myself than to give it to him.”

“You are too hard upon yourself.”

“Circumstances are sometimes.”

“Will it do to say that?” said Winthrop looking up.

“Why not?”

“Will it do to confess oneself —­ one’s freedom of mind —­under the power of circumstance, and so not one’s own?”