Alone in her room, Vivian Deane stood before her mirror and critically viewed the face reflected in it.

"I am more beautiful than Eugene Mallard's wife," she cried, nodding approvingly to the dimpled, smiling face, "and I will make that beauty tell. He does not look happy," she mused. "I, who know him so well, can see it. He has married her, but he is dissatisfied. There is something amiss between them. Ere I have been in this house a week, I will discover what it is." She nodded to the reflection in the mirror. "I had hoped that, seeing him married, I could steel my heart against him, but I find I can not."

"There is something connected with the manner in which Eugene Mallard first met his wife that I must find out," was Vivian's mental comment.

It was not long before Vivian discovered that her beautiful young hostess knew almost nothing of music.

"I think I have discovered her secret," she said to herself. "She must have been a poor girl, perhaps a working-girl."

Instead of seeing the wisdom of God in such an alliance, whereby the wealthy might share with the poor the gifts God had showered upon them, she was angrier than ever.

From the hour in which she had asked Ida the question concerning her meeting with Eugene Mallard, the young wife avoided being alone with her guest.

Vivian could not help but notice it, and she smiled to herself. She seemed to have no wish to capture handsome Captain Drury or Arthur Hollis. She preferred to talk to her hostess on each and every occasion.

"Yon have not told me," she said one day, "whether you lived in New York, San Francisco or Boston."

"Most of my life was spent in a little village outside of the great metropolis," said Ida, inwardly hoping the[151] inquisitive girl would not think of asking the name of the village.

Vivian did think of it, but concluded that it would be wisest not to pursue her inquiries too ardently.

"All this ought to have been mine," muttered Vivian, clinching her hands tightly—"all mine! I loved him first, and I loved him best. She had no right to take him from me!"

These thoughts often ran through Vivian's mind while Ida was talking to her, believing she was entertaining the best and truest friend she had in the great cruel world.

If the young wife had known her as she really was, she would have turned in utter loathing from the beautiful pink-and-white face; she would have prayed Heaven to save her from this, her greatest foe.

As it was, she saw only Vivian Deane's beauty and grace. She heard only kindness in her voice, and she thought to herself that she was very fortunate indeed in securing such a friend.

She talked and laughed so happily that the poor young wife almost forgot her sorrow while listening to her.

Vivian wondered if by any chance the young bride had found out how desperately she had been in love with her husband in other days.

The young wife became more and more unhappy day by day. Once, in following the windings of a brook, Ida was startled at finding herself several miles from home. Glancing up with a start, she found that the sun had almost reached its height. She had been gone longer than she had intended.

Perhaps there was some way by which she could take a shorter cut to the house. She saw a woman slowly advancing along the path, carrying a little baby in her arms. She stopped short as the woman approached. She recognized her as the wife of one of the village merchants.

Ida had often seen her driving on the road with her husband, holding the little child in her lap, and she[152] had said to herself, as she turned away to hide the tears that would spring to her eyes: "That woman has everything in the world to make her life happy. I would exchange places with her gladly if I could."

The woman smiled as she saw Eugene Mallard's young wife, and appeared annoyed upon observing that she was about to stop and speak to her. She answere............