nt, his life's happiness destroyed forever, Henrietta
lost to him. But the very imminence of the danger restored to him his
energy. He mastered his grief, and said in an almost calm voice,--

"I beseech you, let me explain to you why I advised you so. Believe me,
your father does not want your consent at all. You cannot do without his
consent; but he can marry without asking you for yours. There is no law
which authorizes children to oppose the follies of their parents. What
your father wants is your silent approval, the certainty that his
new wife will be kindly received. If you refuse, he will go on,
nevertheless, and not mind your objections."

"Oh!"

"I am, unfortunately, but too sure of that. If he spoke to you of his
plans, you may be sure he had made up his mind. Your resistance
will lead only to our separation. He might possibly forgive you; but
she--Don't you think she should avail herself to the utmost of her
influence over him? Who can foresee to what extremities she might be led
by her hatred against you? And she must be a dangerous woman, Henrietta,
a woman who is capable of any thing."

"Why?"

He hesitated for a moment, not daring to speak out fully what he
thought; and at last he said slowly, as if weighing his words,--

"Because, because this marriage cannot be any thing else but a barefaced
speculation. Your father is immensely rich; she wants his fortune."

Daniel's reasoning was so sensible, and he pleaded his cause with such
eagerness, that Henrietta's resolution was evidently shaken.

"You want me to yield?" she asked.

"I beseech you to do it."

She shook her head sadly, and said in a tone of utter dejection,--

"Very well. It shall be done as you wish it. I shall not object to this
profanation. But you may be sure, my weakness will do us no good."

It struck ten. She rose, offered her hand to Daniel, and said,--

"I will see you to-morrow evening. By that time I shall know, and I will
tell you, the name of the woman whom father is going to marry; for I
shall ask him who she is."

She was spared that trouble. Next morning, the first words of the count
were,--

"Well, have you thought it over?"

She looked at him till he felt compelled to turn his head away; and then
she replied in a tone of resignation,--

"Father, you are master here. I should not tell you the truth, if I said
I was not going to suffer cruelly at the idea of a stranger coming here
to--But I shall receive her