nence a man ever committed; the next instant she thought it the sweetest daring that love ever dared, and a strange surrender of herself to its prophecy began in that very hour. No wonder. The prediction had almost a preternatural sound, as Tom said it; and while he spoke his eyes rested on hers with an authoritative tenderness which was very compelling.
After this day, Susan never felt sure that Tom was not right. After this day, Tom never felt a doubt; and from this day, Edward Balloure perceived in Susan a change which he could not define, but which made him uncomfortable. The searching, probing, questioning look in her eyes was gone. The affection remained, but the eager, restless inquiry had ceased. Had she found out? Or had she left off caring to know?
One day, in an impatient and ill-natured tone, Professor Balloure said to Susan:—
"Does Mr. Lawton really live in this house? I confess it is something of a trial that none of your friends can ever see you without having his company inflicted on them. He is a very stupid man."
Susan fixed her brown eyes steadily on Professor Balloure's face.
"If any of our friends find Mr. Lawton's company an infliction, they know how to avoid it. We do not think him a stupid person, and I trust him more than any other man I know," and, with this sudden and most unexpected shot, Susan walked away and sat down at the piano.
