"Don't you! You ought. What are you looking at in the fire?"
"Winthrop Landholm, — just at that minute."
"I do believe," said Rose indignantly, "you like Winthrop
Landholm better than you do Mr. Haye!"
Elizabeth's eyes glared at her, but though there seemed a moment's readiness to speak, she did not speak, but presently rose up and quitted the room. She went to her own; locked the door, and sat down. There was a moment's quiver of the lip and drawing of the brow, while the eyes in their fire seemed to throw off sparks from the volcano below; and then the head bent, with a cry of pain, and the flood of sorrow broke; so bitter, that she sometimes pressed both hands to her head, as if it were in danger of parting in two. The proud forehead was stooped to the knees, and the shoulders convulsed in her agony. And it lasted long. Half hour and half hour passed before the struggle was over and Elizabeth had quieted herself enough to go to bed. When at last she rose to begin the business of undressing, she startled not a little to see her handmaid Clam present herself.
"When did you come in?" said Elizabeth after a moment's hesitation.
"When the door opened," said Clam collectedly.
"How long ago?"
"How long have you been here, do you s'pose, Miss 'Lizabeth?"
"That's not an answer to my question."
"Not ezackly," said Clam; "but if you'd tell, I could give a better guess."