“What I said I would do, whatever it may cost me.”

“But could you yield?”

“Yield?” exclaimed the young girl.

And, looking at Daniel with grieved surprise, she added,—­

“Would you really dare give me that advice,—­you who had only to look at Miss Brandon to lose your self-control so far as to overwhelm her with insults?”

“Henrietta, I swear”—­

“And this to such an extent, that father accused you of having done so at my bidding.  Ah, you have been very imprudent, Daniel!”

The unhappy man wrung his hands with despair.  What punishment he had to endure for a moment’s forgetfulness!  He felt as if he had rendered himself guilty already by not revealing the mean conduct of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian while Miss Brandon was driving about Paris.  And now, at this very hour, he was put into a still more difficult position, because he could not even give a glimpse of the true state of things.

He said nothing; and Henrietta gloried in his silence.

“You see,” she said, “that if your heart condemns me, your reason and your conscience approve of my decision.”

He made no reply, but, rising suddenly, he began to walk up and down in the room like a wild beast searching for some outlet from the cage in which it has been imprisoned.  He felt he was caught, hemmed in on all sides, and he could do nothing, nothing at all.

“Ah, we must surrender!” he exclaimed at last, overcome with grief; “we must do it; we are almost helpless.  Let us give up the struggle; reason demands it.  We have done enough; we have done our duty.”

All trembling with passion, he spoke on for some time, bringing up the most conclusive arguments, one by one; while his love lent him all its persuasive power.  And at last it looked as if Henrietta’s determination were giving way, and she began to hesitate.  It was so; but she was still struggling against her own emotion, and said in a half-suppressed tone,—­

“No doubt, Daniel, you think I am not yet wretched enough.”

And then, fixing upon him a long, anxious glance, she added,—­

“Say no more, or I shall begin to fear that you are dreading the time which has still to elapse till we can be united, and that you doubt me—­or yourself.”

He blushed, finding himself thus half detected; but, given up entirely to sinister presentiments, he insisted,—­

“No, I do not doubt; but I cannot reconcile myself to the idea that you are going to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon, M. Elgin, and Mrs. Brian.  Since this abominable adventuress must triumph, let us flee.  I have in Anjou an old respectable kinswoman, who will be very proud to offer you her hospitality.”

Henrietta stopped him by a gesture.  Then she said,—­

“In other words, I who risk my happiness in order to avoid a blot upon the name of Ville-Handry, I should tarnish it in an almost ineffaceable manner.  That cannot be.”