"Her guardian?" This is in Harry's tones. "Who made you such?"
"Her father!"
"What?"
"Certainly, her father," continues Oliver's soft voice. "He has constituted me her guardian until she becomes my wife—next winter."
This easy falsehood makes Erma at first frightened, then angry, and a minute after, coming forth cloaked and hooded, she meets Mr. Livingston, Captain Lawrence having apparently gone away.
"Mother is waiting," he whispers, and takes her down.
But on the sidewalk outside she sees Harry standing despondently, and striding up to him, gives him words that make him happy once more.
"To-morrow at two I wish to see you," she whispers, then laughs lightly, "Fairy stories for girls; men don't believe them!"
With this she steps into her carriage, and whispers to Livingston: "Don't dare to tell any more of your fibs about me!" for she is angry with herself now, and cogitates: "What will that man think of me? I have done an unmaidenly thing, and that immaculate gentleman opposite me, gossiping so easily with his mother and Louise, made me do it."