watching her quick comprehension, her originality of thought, her eager impulsiveness, than he had found in anything for many a long year. The very best of him came out to, and for, and with, Susan. Gradually their intercourse dropped from the relation of pupil with teacher into that of friend with friend. The technical instruction continued, but its atmosphere was new; there was a partial renewal of the old bond. Edward Balloure could not help reverencing this girl, whose belief in him, he knew, had its foundation in her immovable belief in honor and truth; whose affection for him individually was, he knew, also, based on her belief that he was honorable and truthful. Probably Susan was the only human being to whom he would have found it difficult to lie. He said to himself sometimes when he looked in her face:—
"Now, such a woman as that I never could have had the heart to deceive."
It soothed his uneasy consciousness of his hypocritical past to assume that, if his wife had been a stronger person he might have been saved from his deceit. But he was mistaken. If it had suited his purposes, and the purposes had been strong enough, he would have deceived Susan Sweetser as readily to-day as he had deceived his wife fifteen years before. For a year and a half now the relation between Professor Balloure and Susan had gone steadily on, growing warmer and closer. When the lectures at Madame Delancy's ceased, and Susan had
