Fortune was much perplexed.  She did not like not to tell him the news—­him, who had so completely established himself as a friend of the family.  And yet to tell him was not exactly her place; besides, he might not care to hear.  Old maid as she was, or thought herself, Miss Williams knew enough of men not to fall into the feminine error of fancying they feel as we do—­that their world is our world, and their interest our interest.  To most men, a leader in the Times, an article in the Quarterly, or a fall in the money market is of far more importance than any love affair in the world, unless it happens to be their own.

Why should I tell him? she thought, convinced that he noticed the anxiety in her eyes, the weariness at her heart.  She had passed an almost sleepless night, pondering over the affairs of these young people, who never thought of any thing beyond their own new-born happiness.  And she had perplexed herself with wondering whether in consenting to this engagement she was really doing her duty by her girls, who had no one but her, and whom she was so tender of, for their dead father’s sake.  But what good was it to say any thing?  She must bear her own burden.  And yet—­

Robert Roy looked at her with his kind, half-amused smile.

“You had better tell me all about it; for, indeed, I know already.”

“What! did you guess it?”

“Perhaps.  But Dalziel came to my room last night and poured out everything.  He is a candid youth.  Well, and am I to congratulate?”

Greatly relieved, Fortune looked up.

“That’s right,” he said; “I like to see you smile.  A minute or two ago you seemed as if you had the cares of all the world on your shoulders.  No, that is not exactly the truth.  Always meet the truth face to face, and don’t be frightened by it.”

Ah, no.  If she had had that strong heart to lean on, that tender hand to help her through the world, she never would have been “frightened” at any thing.

“I know I am very foolish,” she said; “but there are many things which these children of mine don’t see, and I can’t help seeing.”

“Certainly; they are young, and we are—­well, never mind.  Sit down here, and let you and me talk the matter quietly over.  On the whole, are you glad or sorry?”

“Both, I think.  David is able to take care of himself; but poor little Janetta—­my Janetta—­what if he should bring her to poverty?  He is a little reckless about money, and has only a very small certain income.  Worse; suppose being so young, he should by-and-by get tired of her, and neglect her, and break her heart?”

“Or twenty other things which may happen, or may not, and of which they must take the chance, like their neighbors.  You do not believe very much in men, I see, and perhaps you are right.  We are a bad lot—­a bad lot.  But David Dalziel is as good as most of us, that I can assure you.”