But Nina must be the first consideration.  He must plan for Nina.  He brought his thoughts back resolutely—­his daughter must break her engagement now, there was that much gained.  And for the journey to Rio—­

“But why didn’t she tell me!” he interrupted himself, suddenly.  The reference was not to Nina.  Again he saw the superb white shoulders in the soft flood of lamp-light, and the flash of the blue eyes that turned toward Blondin.

“She could have killed him!” Richard said.  “My God! how she will love when she does love!”

Meanwhile, to Harriet had come the bitterest hour of her life.  She had reached a crossroads, and with steady fingers and an anguished heart she prepared for the only step that to her whirling brain and shamed soul seemed possible.  She must disappear.  There was no alternative.

She had harmed them all, they could only think of her now as an unscrupulous and mischievous woman who had by chance entered their lives when they were all in desperate need of wisdom and guidance, who had played her own contemptible game, and added one more hurt to the hurt reputation of the house of Carter.

Harriet got out of her evening gown and into a loose wrapper.  She went about somewhat aimlessly, yet the suitcases, spread open on the bed, were gradually filled, and her personal possessions gradually disappeared from tables and walls.  Now and then she stopped short, heartsick and trembling; once her lips quivered and her eyes filled, but for the most part she did not pause.

Nina, at about eleven, had come to the door between their rooms, and opened it.  The girl was undressed, and for a few moments she watched Harriet scowlingly, with narrowed eyes.

“Are you going away?” she said, presently.  Harriet brought heavy eyes to meet hers, and stood considering a minute, as if bringing her thoughts back a long distance.

“I—­going away?  Yes,” she said, slowly.  “Yes, I may.”

Nina still stood watching, which seemed vaguely to trouble Harriet, who gave her a restless glance now and then as she went to and fro.  Presently she spoke to Nina again.

“Good-night, Nina!”

“Good-night!” snapped Nina, and the door slammed.

Harriet continued to move about for perhaps half an hour before Nina’s odd manner recurred to her, on a wave of memory, and she seemed to hear again Nina’s ungracious tone.

“He told her!” she said, suddenly.  “She saw Royal, and he told her!  Poor child—­”

And she went to Nina’s room, with a vague idea that she would sit beside the weeping girl for awhile, one heavy heart close to the other, even if no words could pass between them.

But Nina lay sleeping peacefully, and Harriet, after watching her for a few minutes, went back to her own room.  She went to the open window, and stood staring absently out at the dark summer night, the great branches of the trees moving in the restless wind, and the oblong of dull light that still fell from the library window.