careful of their coin, women who have all the advantages in a conjunction, are miserly in keeping them, and shudder to think that one thing remains hidden, which the world they move in might put down pityingly in favour of their spouse, even though to the little man ’twere naught.  She assumed that a revelation would diminish her moral stature; and certainly it would not increase that of her husband.  So no good could come of it.  Besides, Andrew knew, his whole conduct was a tacit admission, that she had condescended in giving him her hand.  The features of their union might not be changed altogether by a revelation, but it would be a shock to her.

Consequently, Harriet tenderly rebuked Caroline, for her outcry at the breakfast-table; and Caroline, the elder sister, who had not since marriage grown in so free an air, excused herself humbly, and the two were weeping when the Countess joined them and related what she had just undergone.

Hearing of Caroline’s misdemeanour, however, Louisa’s eyes rolled aloft in a paroxysm of tribulation.  It was nothing to Caroline; it was comparatively nothing to Harriet; but the Count knew not Louisa had a father:  believed that her parents had long ago been wiped out.  And the Count was by nature inquisitive:  and if he once cherished a suspicion he was restless; he was pointed in his inquiries:  he was pertinacious in following out a clue:  there never would be peace with him!  And then, as they were secure in their privacy, Louisa cried aloud for her father, her beloved father!  Harriet wept silently.  Caroline alone expressed regret that she had not set eyes on him from the day she became a wife.

‘How could we, dear?’ the Countess pathetically asked, under drowning lids.

‘Papa did not wish it,’ sobbed Mrs. Andrew.

‘I never shall forgive myself!’ said the wife of the Major, drying her cheeks.  Perhaps it was not herself whom she felt she never could forgive.

Ah! the man their father was!  Incomparable Melchisedec! he might well be called.  So generous! so lordly!  When the rain of tears would subside for a moment, one would relate an anecdote or childish reminiscence of him, and provoke a more violent outburst.

‘Never, among the nobles of any land, never have I seen one like him!’ exclaimed the Countess, and immediately requested Harriet to tell her how it would be possible to stop Andrew’s tongue in Silva’s presence.

’At present, you know, my dear, they may talk as much as they like—­they can’t understand one another one bit.’

Mrs. Cogglesby comforted her by the assurance that Andrew had received an intimation of her wish for silence everywhere and toward everybody; and that he might be reckoned upon to respect it, without demanding a reason for the restriction.  In other days Caroline and Louisa had a little looked down on Harriet’s alliance with a dumpy man—­a brewer—­and had always kind Christian compassion for him if his name were mentioned.  They seemed now, by their silence, to have a happier estimate of Andrew’s qualities.