Jack saw his companion turn pale to her lips, as he asked the question, and her eyes amazed him by their piteous wistfulness as she raised them to his.
"I have made a great—a great mistake to speak," she returned faintly, "but I thought from what you said—and I hoped so you would not object! He is," eagerly, "oh, he is happy, Jack. It is your father."
The young man stared blankly into the white face, then his own turned red. Through all the tan of seashore sun she could see the color rise, and as the affectionate interest that had shone from his expressive eyes gave place to a violent revulsion of feeling, it seemed to her that a physical coldness crept around her heart.
"This is news to me," he said in a voice she did not know. "I—I wouldn't have believed it of you, Clover."
The girl winced. The contempt of her old playfellow was the severest blow she had ever had to bear. She walked fast under the stress of feeling, and her companion kept pace with her.
"This is why she refused the Breckinridge invitation," thought Van Tassel hotly. "My poor, generous, blind father."
They kept silence for half a block, then Clover spoke again, recovered calmness in her pale face.
"Your father said that if we were honest with each other, we should not do wrong," she said clearly, "and we have been very honest. He loves me. He wants to take all my cares upon himself. Nearly all our means of subsistence has recently been taken from us, and I was bewildered and helpless when Mr. Van Tassel came to me with his love and generosity."
"An irresistible temptation, no doubt," replied Jack dryly.
"It was a great temptation. I have the future of three children in my care, with all my inexperience; but the keenest pang in my helplessness was mother's condition."