“Go on, Harry. Tell me all you know. What had Antony Van Hoosen to do with the matter?”
“He saw that she was taking too much. And he loves Rose better than his own life. So he invented an excuse to get her home.”
Mr. Filmer bit his lips passionately, and Harry saw that he was disposed to settle his anger upon the innocent. “Sir,” he said, “Antony did our family a great kindness. I met him on the avenue afterwards, 152 and we had a long conversation. He is coming to see you in the morning. He is anxious to have the right to watch over Rose—to protect her——”
“God in heaven! Has not Rose a father, and mother, and brother?”
“We have hitherto done nothing to help, or to save, the girl. We have each and all trusted to the power of social laws and judgments. Mother and I have certainly suspected, feared, divined something wrong for a long time; and we have both acted as if we thought by ignoring the danger we could destroy it. Antony loves her better than we do. He is ready to marry her at once. He will take her to Europe, and watch over her constantly, until the temptation is dead, and the memory forgotten by every one.”
“Harry, we do not want a stranger to do our duty, do we? If Rose is to be taken away, her father and mother are the proper persons to go with her.”
“Not in this case, father. When a man of Antony’s spotless character, good lineage, and great wealth makes Rose his wife, every one’s mouth will be shut by the honor done her. People will recall the old reports only to say, ‘There must have been a mistake! Rose is so excitable!’ And no one will eventually, in the face of such a fact as her marriage, trust their own sight or memory about what they think they have seen or heard. If you are Rose’s friend, my dear father, listen to what Antony Van Hoosen says, and make Rose marry him.”
“Make? Who can make a woman do what she is resolved not to do?”
“Then, let us go back to Woodsome; there we may be better able to protect Rose from herself and others.”