“My first sensation,” Blondin said, “was one of satisfaction.  I thought to myself that my own cause, with Nina, was safe now.  That you trusted me, and I had every reason to trust you.”

Harriet looked away for a brief silence, brought her eyes to his face.  She felt suddenly sick.

“Roy, you’re not still serious about Nina?”

“I have never been anything else,” he said, delicately.

“But—­but why?” Harriet asked.

“I like the girl,” he reminded her pleasantly.  “I hope she is not entirely indifferent to me—­”

“Indifferent!  She’s at the age that marries anybody!” Harriet said, indignantly.

“You give me hope,” Royal said with a bow.

“Her father very violently opposes it,” Harriet said, after a troubled silence.

“I am well aware of that, my dear.  Her father forbade me the house last December.  I submitted; the girl submitted.  But we made our plans.  I fancy we will not have any difficulty now.”

“You mean that you are engaged?”

“An understanding.  We have corresponded, seen each other now and then through Ida Tabor.  It’s,” he smiled, dreamily, “extremely romantic, of course,” he said.

Harriet felt that she could have killed him.

“You understand that she won’t have one penny, Roy.  I know her father.  He won’t yield.  He’ll forbid it; he’ll not hesitate.  If she does it against his will, she will have to wait three years for her money.  Three years—!  Roy, she wouldn’t be happy three weeks!  Mr. Carter spoke to me about it the only time we’ve spoken of you.  He said that he was glad the affair had ended naturally; that you were not the man to make Nina happy, and that he would rather have her suffer anything, and find out her mistake at once, than have her heart broken, and her money wasted, through several wretched years!”

Blondin had listened to this quietly, his eyes moving from her lips to her own earnest eyes, and wandering over her animated face.

“I count on you to be my advocate, my dear Harriet,” he said, after a moment’s silence.  “Richard Carter believes in you; he has great faith in your judgment.  If you represent to him that you believe this to be a wise step all round, we shall have no further trouble—­’

“I can’t honestly tell him so, Roy!” the girl interrupted.

“Can’t you?” Blondin said.  He looked across the open hallway to Nina, descending in fresh ruffles and ribbons, and raised his voice.  “Here she is—­looking like the very rose of girls!  Come on now, Nina, you aren’t going to belong to anybody else but me for a while!” he said.  But as he turned to leave Harriet, he added again:  “Can’t you?  Think it over.”