“I have never spoken of her to any one, except in terms of praise.  I could not do otherwise, for I look upon her as one of the most faultless women I know.”

“She has at least shown that she possesses one fault.”

“What is that?”

“If she has heard any thing against you of a character so serious as to make her wish to give up your acquaintance, she should at least have afforded you the chance of defending yourself before condemning you.”

“I think that, myself.”

“It may be that she did not see you,” Mr. Comegys suggested.

“She looked me in the face, and nodded with cold formality.”

“Perhaps her mind was abstracted.”

“It might have been so.  Mine would have been very abstracted, indeed, to keep me from a more cordial recognition of a friend.”

“How would it do to call and see her?”

“I have been thinking of that.  But my feelings naturally oppose it.  I am not conscious of having done any thing to merit a withdrawal of the friendly sentiments she has held towards me; still, if she wishes to withdraw them, my pride says, let her do so.”

“But pride, you know, is not always the best adviser.”

“No.  Perhaps the less regard we pay to its promptings, the better.”

“I think so.”

“It is rather awkward to go to a person and ask why you have been treated coldly.”

“I know it is.  But in a choice of evils, is it not always wisest to choose the least?”

“But is any one’s bad opinion of you, if it be not correctly formed, an evil?”

“Certainly it is.”

“I don’t know.  I have a kind of independence about me which says, ’Let people think what they please, so you are conscious of no wrong.’”

“Indifference to the world’s good or bad opinion is all very well,” replied the husband, “if the world will misjudge us.  Still, as any thing that prejudices the minds of people against us, tends to destroy our usefulness, it is our duty to take all proper care of our reputations, even to the sacrifice of a little feeling in doing so.”

Thus argued with by her husband, Mrs. Comegys, after turning the matter over in her mind, finally concluded to go and see Mrs. Markle.  It was a pretty hard trial for her, but urged on by a sense of right, she called upon her two or three days after having been treated so coldly.  She sent up her name by the servant.  In about five minutes, Mrs. Markle descended to the parlor, where her visitor was awaiting her, and met her in a reserved and formal manner, that was altogether unlike her former cordiality.  It was as much as Mrs. Comegys could do to keep from retiring instantly, and without a word, from the house.  But she compelled herself to go through with what she had begun.

Mrs. Markle did, indeed, offer her hand; or rather the tips of her fingers; which Mrs. Comegys, in mere reciprocation of the formality, accepted.  Then came an embarrassing pause, after which the latter said—­