“It’s a serious matter—­of course,” Wayne said, after becoming hesitation; “but I’ve great confidence in Henry Jarrott.  Next to Evie herself, he’s the person most concerned—­in a certain way.  I’m told he thinks well of you—­”

“He ought to know,” Ford broke in, confidently.  “I’ve nothing to show in the way of passports, except myself and my work.  I’ve been with him ever since I went to South America, and he’s been extremely kind to me.  The only certificate of character I can offer is one from him.”

“That’s sufficient.  We should be sorry to let Evie go, shouldn’t we, Miriam?  She’s a sweet child, and very much like her dear mother.  But, as you say, it was bound to happen one day or another; and we can only be glad that—­I’m happy to congratulate you, Mr. Strange.  Your name, at any rate, is a familiar one.  It’s that of an old boyhood’s friend of mine, who showed me the honor of placing this young lady in my charge.  We called him Harry.  His full name was Herbert Harrington, but he dropped the first.  You seem to have taken it up—­it’s odd, isn’t it, Miriam?—­and I take it as a happy omen.”

“Thank you.”  Ford rose, and made the blind man understand that he was holding out his hand, “I shall be more satisfied now for having told you.”

Miriam accompanied him into the hall, on pretext of ringing for the lift.

“Oh, why did you do that?” she protested.  “Don’t you see that it only makes things more complicated than they were already?”

“It’s my first move,” he laughed, with friendly bravado.  “Now you can make yours.”

She gazed at him in puzzled distress as the lift rose.

“I’m coming again,” he said, with renewed confidence.  “I’ve a lot more things to say.”

“And I have only one,” she answered, turning back toward the drawing-room.

“He’s a nice young fellow,” Wayne said, as he heard her enter.  He had risen and felt his way into the bay-window, where he stood looking outward as if he could see.  “I suppose it must be all right, since the Jarrotts are so enthusiastic Poor little Evie!  I hope she’ll be happy.  It’s extraordinary how his voice reminds me of—­”

She stood still in the middle of the room, waiting for him to continue.  Nothing he could add would have surprised her now.  But he said no more.

XVI

Thinking that Ford might come again next afternoon, Miriam went out.  On her return she found his card—­Mr. Herbert Strange. The same thing occurred the next day, and the next, and so on through the week.  She was not afraid of seeing him.  Now that the worst was known to her, she was sure of her mastery of herself, and of her capacity to meet anything.  What she feared most was her sympathy for him, and the possibility that in some unguarded moment of pity he might wring concessions from her which she had no right to make.  She hoped, too, that time, even a few days’ time, would help him to work out the honorable course for himself.