“I will. I shall live for her, and her alone.”
“Pardon me, Antony, if I suggest that cash may have a great deal to do with this proposal.”
“I am rich. I shall spend all I have to save her. I shall take her to Europe for a year. All that love and money can do to make her strong shall be done.”
Then Harry let his hand seek Antony’s hand, and they understood each other, without words. But Harry was very unhappy and also very angry. His betrothal to Adriana had been interfered with because it was supposed to be inimical to the social interests of his sister; and now the joy of his reconciliation to his love was shadowed by Rose’s misconduct. Yet he felt that some steps must be taken at once to prevent the evils which would certainly result from her selfish weakness, if it were unchecked. For, after all, the sin resolved itself into the black one of selfishness; Rose was determined to have the pleasure she desired, though she should tear it through, the hearts of all who loved her, though it should bring her personally only misery and shame.
Such thoughts were natural enough to Harry, and they irritated as well as wounded him. It scarcely 150 needed his mother’s look of reproach and querulous question as to “why he had forgotten the dinner hour,” to make him speak the truth, with almost brutal frankness.
“Where is father?” he asked, impatiently.
“Your father has been all day hard at work in the Astor Library. He came home perfectly worn out, and had his dinner served in his study. He did not feel able to dress for the table to-night.”
“It is perfectly absurd. Father has some duties to his family, I think. For instance, if he would remember he had a daughter. Where is Rose?”
“Rose is with that angelic young person, Miss Van Hoosen. And it is not your place to call your father ‘absurd.’ Some day, you will be proud of him.”
“My dear mother, Rose is not with Yanna.”