Altogether, Helen was about as happy as ever throughout that afternoon, tho one who watched her closely might have thought there was something nervous about her animation, especially later on, when the talk with the architect was nearing its end; Helen’s eyes had once or twice wandered uneasily about the room, and when finally the man rose to leave, she asked him with a sudden desperate resolution to look over the rest of the rooms and see what he thought of her suggestions.  The latter expressed himself as pleased to oblige her, but he would probably have been somewhat chagrined had he known how little Helen really attended to his remarks; her mind was in a whirl, and all that he said sounded distant and vague; her one wish was that he might stay and give her time to think.

But Helen found the uselessness of shrinking, and the time came at last when she saw to her despair that there was no more to say, and that the man must go.  In a few minutes more he was actually gone, and she was left all alone in the great house with Mr. Harrison.

The two went back into the dining room, where Mr. Harrison stood leaning his hand upon the table, and Helen stood in front of him, her lips trembling.  Twice she made a faint attempt to speak, and then she turned and began pacing up and down the room in agitation.  Mr. Harrison was watching her, seeing that there was something on her mind, and also that her emotion made her more beautiful and more disturbing to him than ever.

At last Helen went and sat down upon a sofa at one side, and clenching her hands very tightly about her knees, looked up at him and said, in a faint voice, “I had something to say to you, Mr. Harrison.”  Then she stopped, and her eyes fell, and her breath came very hard.

“What is it, dear?” asked Mr. Harrison gently.

And Helen’s lips trembled more than ever, and her voice sank still lower as she said, “I—­I don’t know how to begin.”

The other was silent for a few moments more, after which he came slowly across the room and sat down beside her.

“Helen,” he said, “I had something to say to you also; suppose I say it first?”

The girl’s chest was heaving painfully, and her heart throbbing violently, but she gazed into his eyes, and smiled, and answered him “Very well.”  He took one of her burning hands in his, and she made no resistance.

“Helen, dear,” he said, “do you remember it was nearly a week ago that we stood in this same room, and that you promised to be my wife?  You were very cold to me then.  I have been waiting patiently for you to change a little, not venturing to say anything for fear of offending you.  But it is very hard—­”

He had bent forward pleadingly, and his face was very close to hers, trying to read her heart.  Perhaps it was well that he could not, for it would have frightened him.  The moment was one of fearful suffering for Helen, tho there was no sign of it, except that she was trembling like a leaf, and that her lips were white.  There was just a moment of suspense, and then with a cruel effort she mastered herself and gazed up at the man, a smile forcing itself to her lips again.