At the sound of this name Rose Stillwater winced and shivered.

“Then, knowing that his favorite son will be near him, I shall leave him with the freer heart and go away with my brother, withersoever he may be sent.  Mr. Fabian is expected to return within a few weeks, and will probably be here long before my brother receives his orders.  Now, Mrs. Stillwater, I think all has been said between us, and you will please excuse my leaving you,” said Cora, as she arose and withdrew from the room.

Then Rose Stillwater lost her self-command.  Her blue eyes blazed, she set her teeth, she doubled her fist, and shaking it after the vanished form of the lady, she hissed: 

“Very well, proud madam!  I’ll pay you for all this!  You shall never touch one cent of old Aaron Rockharrt’s millions!”

Having launched this threat, she got up and went to her room.  Ten minutes later she drove out in a carriage alone.  She did not return to luncheon.  Neither did Mr. Rockharrt, who had gone down to Wall Street.  Sylvan and Cora lunched alone, and spent the afternoon together in the parlor, for they had much to say to each other after their long separation, and much also to say of the impending marriage.  During that afternoon many packages and bandboxes came by vans, directed to Mrs. Rose Stillwater.  These were sent to her apartment.  At dusk Mrs. Stillwater returned and went directly to her room.  She probably did not care to face the brother and sister together, unsupported by their grandfather.  A few minutes later Mr. Rockharrt came in, looking moody and defiant, as if quite conscious of the absurdity of his position, or ready to crush any one who betrayed the slightest, sense of humor.  Then dinner was served, and Rose Stillwater came out of her room and entered the parlor—­a vision of loveliness—­her widow’s weeds all gone, her dress a violet brocaded satin, with fine lace berthe and sleeve trimmings, white throat and white arms encircled with pearl necklace and bracelets; golden red hair dressed high and adorned with a pearl comb.  She came in smiling and took her place at the table.

Old Aaron Rockharrt looked up at her in surprise and not altogether with pleasure.  Rose Stillwater, seeing his expression of countenance, got a new insight into the mind of the old man whom she had thought she knew so well.  During dinner, to cover the embarrassment which covered each member of the small party, Sylvan began to talk of the cadets’ ball at West Point on the preceding evening; the distinguished men who were present, the pretty girls with whom he had danced, the best waltzers, and so forth, and then the mischievous scamp added: 

“But there wasn’t a brunette present as handsome as my sister Cora, nor a blonde as beautiful as my own grandmamma-elect.”

When they all left the table, Mrs. Stillwater went to her room, and Mr. Rockharrt took occasion to say: 

“I wish you both to understand the programme for to-morrow.  There is to be no fuss, no wedding breakfast, no nonsense whatever.”