per course, he had taken
it promptly. Nevertheless the idea was impossible, perfectly impossible,
that Garda, the child whom they all loved, the daughter of Edgar Thorne
and all the Dueros, could be carried off by this stranger without any
trouble to himself, at an hour's notice! And that he, Reginald Kirby,
should be asked to give his consent to it in that light way! Give his
consent? Never!

The Doctor's feelings were conflicting. And growing more so. He looked
at Winthrop, and thought of twenty things; at one instant he felt a
strong desire to knock him down; the next, he was grateful. He said to
himself, almost with tears, that at least it should not be so easy,
there should be obstacles, and plenty, of them; if there was no one else
to raise them, he, Reginald Kirby, would raise them. He found it
difficult to know what he really did think with any clearness.

But Winthrop was waiting, he must say something. "Edgarda is very
young," he began, in rather a choked voice.

"I know it. I should, of course, wait until she was older--at least
eighteen."

"Two years," said the Doctor, mechanically.

"Yes, two years."

"And in the mean time?"

"In the mean time we should, I hope, go on much as we are going now; she
is in Mrs. Harold's charge, you know."

The southerner thought that this also was spoken much too lightly.
"Would your intention be to--to educate her further?" he asked, bringing
out the question with an effort. It seemed to him that he never could
consent to that, to have their child carried off, while still so young
and impressible, and subjected to the radical modern processes that
passed as education for girls at the high-pressure North.

"No," Winthrop answered, divining the Doctor's thought, and smiling over
it, "I have no intentions of that kind, how could I have? If Garda
should choose to study for a while, that would be her own affair, and
Mrs. Harold's. She will be entirely free."

"Do you mean that you will exercise no authority?"

"None whatever."

"Then you do not consider it an engagement?" said the Doctor, drawing
himself up belligerently.

"As much of an engagement as this: she has said that she would be my
wife at the end of two years, if, at the end of two years, she should
find herself in the same mind."

"For God's sake, sir, don't smile, don't take it in that way! At what
are you laughing? It cannot be at Garda, it must be therefore at myself;
I am not aware in what respect