ependent as regarded money; but in
his present mood the Doctor cursed the independence as well as the
wealth that had produced it. Independence? what does a young girl want
with independence? Garda had needed nothing; they were able to take care
of her themselves, and they wanted no such gross modern fortunes
invading and deteriorating Gracias-a-Dios! But it was too late now;
their little girl was not their own any more, she was engaged.

As to her imprudence of to-day--that was owing to her taste for
amusement, or rather for being amused; they had not, perhaps, paid
sufficient attention to this trait of hers. But, in any case, it was, on
her side, nothing but thoughtlessness. The person who had been to blame
was Lucian Spenser! He (the Doctor) had been too late in his pursuit of
Lucian. But perhaps Winthrop would not be too late. For of course
Winthrop would wish---- But there, again--would he wish?--the Doctor
felt, with bewildered discomfiture, that he had not sufficient knowledge
of this man's opinions to enable him to form any definite conclusions on
this subject, plain and simple as the matter appeared to his own view.

And then, in order to wish anything, Winthrop must first know; and who
was to tell him? And when he had been told, would he take their view,
his (the Doctor's) view--the only true one--of Garda's taste for being
amused? The Doctor felt that he should like to see him take any other!
Still, he did not own Evert Winthrop, and he could not help asking
himself whether any of that sternness now visible on the face behind the
newspaper would be apt to fall upon Garda, in case the possessor of the
face should have a different opinion from theirs as to her little
fancies. He clinched his fist at the mere thought.

Garda's voice broke in upon his reverie, she summoned him to the table
to see the conclusion of her "fortune." And as he obeyed her summons,
his cares suddenly grew lighter: a girl with such a frank voice as that
could not possibly have a secret to guard. In the midst of this
reasoning, the Doctor would have knocked down anybody (beginning with
himself) who had dared to suggest that she had.

That night, before going to bed, the Doctor burned upon the hearth of
his own room Garda's sealed note just as it was; and he took the
precaution, furthermore, to wrap it in an old newspaper, in order that
he should not by chance see any of its written words in the momentary
magnifying power of the flames.