“You have guessed right, Miss Henrietta.  Your father evidently does propose to you a bargain.”

“Ah! but that is horrible.”

“He wanted you to understand, that, if you would consent to his marriage, he would consent”—­

Shocked at what he was going to add, he stopped; but Henrietta said boldly,—­

“To ours, you mean,—­to ours?  Yes, so I understood it; and that was my reason for sending for you to advise me.”

Poor fellow!  She was asking him to seal his fate.

“I think you ought to consent!” he stammered out.

She rose, trembling with indignation, and replied,—­

“Never, never!”

Daniel was overcome by this sudden shock.  Never.  He saw all his hopes dashed in an instant, his life’s happiness destroyed forever, Henrietta lost to him.  But the very imminence of the danger restored to him his energy.  He mastered his grief, and said in an almost calm voice,—­

“I beseech you, let me explain to you why I advised you so.  Believe me, your father does not want your consent at all.  You cannot do without his consent; but he can marry without asking you for yours.  There is no law which authorizes children to oppose the follies of their parents.  What your father wants is your silent approval, the certainty that his new wife will be kindly received.  If you refuse, he will go on, nevertheless, and not mind your objections.”

“Oh!”

“I am, unfortunately, but too sure of that.  If he spoke to you of his plans, you may be sure he had made up his mind.  Your resistance will lead only to our separation.  He might possibly forgive you; but she—­Don’t you think she should avail herself to the utmost of her influence over him?  Who can foresee to what extremities she might be led by her hatred against you?  And she must be a dangerous woman, Henrietta, a woman who is capable of any thing.”

“Why?”

He hesitated for a moment, not daring to speak out fully what he thought; and at last he said slowly, as if weighing his words,—­

“Because, because this marriage cannot be any thing else but a barefaced speculation.  Your father is immensely rich; she wants his fortune.”

Daniel’s reasoning was so sensible, and he pleaded his cause with such eagerness, that Henrietta’s resolution was evidently shaken.

“You want me to yield?” she asked.

“I beseech you to do it.”

She shook her head sadly, and said in a tone of utter dejection,—­

“Very well.  It shall be done as you wish it.  I shall not object to this profanation.  But you may be sure, my weakness will do us no good.”

It struck ten.  She rose, offered her hand to Daniel, and said,—­

“I will see you to-morrow evening.  By that time I shall know, and I will tell you, the name of the woman whom father is going to marry; for I shall ask him who she is.”

She was spared that trouble.  Next morning, the first words of the count were,—­