Harry held his breath in awful suspense.  Juliana quietly disengaged her waist, and looking at him, said, ’Poor Harry!  You need not lie any more to please me.’

Such was Harry’s astonishment, that he exclaimed,

‘It isn’t a lie!  I say, I do love you.’  And for an instant he thought and hoped that he did love her.

‘Well, then, Harry, I don’t love you,’ said Juliana; which revealed to our friend that he had been mistaken in his own emotions.  Nevertheless, his vanity was hurt when he saw she was sincere, and he listened to her, a moody being.  This may account for his excessive wrath at Evan Harrington after Juliana had given him proofs of the truth of what she said.

But the Countess was Harrington’s sister!  The image of the Countess swam before him.  Was it possible?  Harry went about asking everybody he met.  The initiated were discreet; those who had the whispers were open.  A bare truth is not so convincing as one that discretion confirms.  Harry found the detestable news perfectly true.

‘Stop it by all means if you can,’ said his father.

‘Yes, try a fall with Rose,’ said his mother.

’And I must sit down to dinner to-day with a confounded fellow, the son of a tailor, who’s had the impudence to make love to my sister!’ cried Harry.  ‘I’m determined to kick him out of the house!—­half.’

‘To what is the modification of your determination due?’ Lady Jocelyn inquired, probably suspecting the sweet and gracious person who divided Harry’s mind.

Her ladyship treated her children as she did mankind generally, from her intellectual eminence.  Harry was compelled to fly from her cruel shafts.  He found comfort with his Aunt Shorne, and she as much as told Harry that he was the head of the house, and must take up the matter summarily.  It was expected of him.  Now was the time for him to show his manhood.

Harry could think of but one way to do that.

‘Yes, and if I do—­all up with the old lady,’ he said, and had to explain that his Grandmama Bonner would never leave a penny to a fellow who had fought a duel.

‘A duel!’ said Mrs. Shorne.  ’No, there are other ways.  Insist upon his renouncing her.  And Rose—­treat her with a high hand, as becomes you.  Your mother is incorrigible, and as for your father, one knows him of old.  This devolves upon you.  Our family honour is in your hands, Harry.’

Considering Harry’s reputation, the family honour must have got low:  Harry, of course, was not disposed to think so.  He discovered a great deal of unused pride within him, for which he had hitherto not found an agreeable vent.  He vowed to his aunt that he would not suffer the disgrace, and while still that blandishing olive-hued visage swam before his eyes, he pledged his word to Mrs. Shorne that he would come to an understanding with Harrington that night.

‘Quietly,’ said she.  ‘No scandal, pray.’