had avoided her invitation to present him to her father.
Circumstances now were entirely different. And as he shook off the
reproach to himself, she also came from her abstraction.

"Yes; Father's improving steadily and--Dr. Sinclair says--much more
rapidly than it would have been right to expect. Dr. Sinclair is going
to remain only to-day; then he is to turn Father over to the village
doctor, who is very good. We will keep the same nurses at present."

"Mr. Blatchford told me that might be the arrangement."

"Oh, you had some talk with Mr. Blatchford, then?"

"We introduced ourselves."

Harriet was silent for a moment, evidently expecting some comment from
him; when he offered none, she said, "Father would not like you to
accept the estimate of him which Mr. Blatchford must have given you."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't Mr. Blatchford argue with you that Father must be the greatest
man living?"

"He certainly expressed great admiration for your father," Eaton said.
"He is your cousin?"

"I call him that; he's Father's cousin. They were very close friends
when they were boys, though Cousin Wallace is a few years older. They
entered preparatory school together and were together all through
college and ever since. I suppose Cousin Wallace told you that it was
he-- Those are the garages and stables over there to the north, Mr.
Eaton. This road leads to them. And over there are the toolhouses and
gardeners' quarters; you can only just see them through the trees."

She had interrupted herself suddenly, as though she realized that his
attention had not been upon what she was saying but given to the plan
of the grounds. He recalled himself quickly.

"Yes; what was it you were saying about Mr. Blatchford?"

She glanced at him keenly, then colored and went on. "I was saying
that Father and he went through college together. They both were
looked upon as young men of very unusual promise--Mr. Blatchford
especially; I suppose because Father, being younger, had not shown so
plainly what he might become. Then Father was blinded--he was just
sixteen; and--and Cousin Wallace never fulfilled the promise he had
given."

"I don't quite see the connection," Eaton offered.

"Oh, I thought Cousin Wallace must have told you; he tells almost every
one as soon as he meets them. It was he who blinded Father. It was a
hunting accident, and Father was made totally blind. Father always
said it wasn't Cousin Wallac