ge of the flower-screen which you know of, and, behind
the plants, with the help of a floating curtain, managed to hear every
word, and to see enough--more than enough."

The woman seemed surprised. Her brow contracted, and she looked hard at
Agnes, as one appears to search through an object without seeing it,
when the mind resolves a new idea.

"This is strange," she said; "I had more faith in Mabel Harrington's
pride. She glories in her son, you say--yet is willing to marry him to a
penniless foundling."

"And is Lina a foundling?" inquired Agnes, eagerly.

The woman did not heed her.

"I would not believe it," she muttered--"and General Harrington--what
can it all mean? I thought one might safely calculate on his family
pride."

"If you have calculated much on that, it is all over with me, I can tell
you," said the girl, sullenly unfolding her arms. "I do not think
General Harrington cares much who his son marries, so long as he is not
called upon for help. You tell me that Mr. James is the millionaire.
Ralph will be independent of his father so long as he keeps on the right
side of the richer Harrington."

"Then this thing is settled," muttered the woman, with her eyes cast
downward, and her brows gathered in a frown.

"Yes, with all your management, it _is_ settled."

"You are mistaken, girl. Now, I will teach you how much faith can be
placed on a woman's promise. Ralph Harrington shall not marry Lina
French."

Agnes looked suddenly up. The woman's face was composed and confident;
her eyes sparkled, and her lip curved proudly, as if conscious of having
resolved some difficulty to her own satisfaction.

"What do you mean, mammy? How can you prevent it?"

"I will prevent it, girl."

"But, how?"

"General Harrington shall withdraw his consent."

Agnes laughed rather scornfully. "_Shall_ withdraw his consent? Who will
make him?"

"As a reward for your obedience, _you_ shall make him."

"I, mammy? but he is not easily won upon; the General has strange ideas
of his own, which one does not know how to meet. There is nothing, it
seems to me, so unimpressible as a worldly old man--especially if he has
had all heart polished out of him by what is called society. It takes a
great deal to disturb the apathy of men who have settled down from
active evil into selfish respectability; and that, I take it, is General
Harrington's present condition."

"Then, the influence that you rather boasted of has failed