in every social accomplishment, so artificial as to seem natural. Interiorly, she may be black as tophet, hating the human race and craving its destruction; but what have we to do with that? In this world, angels would be impossible people in society; while a devil arrayed as an angel is just the thing.
But I am not justified in taking this tone about the poor lady. In all her much tried and tempted career she has never been known to make a false step. What patience, temper and purpose is indicated by that! What courage, too, never to have admitted defeat, but to be still, as the pugilists say, in the ring! And now, at full fifty years of age, she hopes to win out with her daughter. The girl is certainly a beauty, and has a voice with money in it; and there is no reason why she should not capture some Russian prince with infinite riches, and then the much-enduring, deeply planning Mabel Lyell would have her reward.
Marion has auburn hair and dark brown eyes. She is reserved, and seems satisfied with herself, for which one can't blame her; but she certainly has a temperament, and this coldness might turn out to be a mere manner of self-defense. She sang for us yesterday forenoon, touching the piano very lightly with her fingertips; and I, listening to her with Cattermole's remarks in my mind, realized for the first time that that diamond chill in her voice may be only the virgin shield which she instinctively interposes between the world and the depths within her. I can imagine, too, that were that defense once broken down, a force of passion would be born from her that would entirely transform her if it found a worthy object, and would make that voice of hers all that Cattermole wished it to be. She is quite different from her mother; there is not the least intellectual nor moral sympathy between them, but only, on Marion's part, the natural, unconsidered affection of daughter for mother. The latter, on the other hand, would sacrifice the girl's soul without a qualm to a "good match"—the kind she herself did not make with Chantrey. That kind of good is the only kind in which she is capable of really believing. If Marion suspects this, no doubt it would freeze her up more than ever. But I don't think she has turned her mind in that direction.
She is independent, severe, dwelling in her own thoughts, with a sort of maiden fierceness in her which sometimes hardly clothes itself in the forms of courtesy. There is a fine, strong brain packed beneath that broad, low forehead. She is taciturn and serious, saying little and smiling less. But the smile is beautiful when it comes; and what she says is never idle and foolish. I wonder if her mother will be able to spoil her!
Since her mother is not a woman to do anything without an object, I also wonder what she is here for; and it has occurred to me that possibly she may contemplate the desperate enterprise of capturing Cattermole! She is a handsome widow, looking much less than her age, and skilful in every feminine resource; no fool, either, and perhaps believing that his previous sentiment for her may be revived. Cattermole, with his apostolic simplicity, and the essential youthfulness which his selfless life has kept alive in him, full of forgiveness, too, for all human frailties, might conceivably fall into the snare. We are more apt to love those we have truly forgiven than those who forgive us. He talks with her a good deal. What a triumph for her if she succeeds! At present, and for some years past, she has, of course, been dependent, in a way, on Marion, and her manner toward her has, in consequence, been almost deferential. But if she carries off the millionaire Marion would be dethroned at once. However, the girl can take care of herself, and would be all the better for being relieved of the maternal incubus.
IV
We walked to Bowlder Point this afternoon to see the sunset. There
