"No, but he might better be, Betty. He has a wife and two little children out West, and he has deserted them to marry again."
Betty did not scream nor exclaim, "How dreadful!" Instead, she sat down quickly in the first chair at hand.
After an instant's silence, she said in her matter-of-fact way:
"Then there won't be any wedding, of course! And what will that poor girl do? Has anybody thought about her? Somehow, I'm not surprised. I've always secretly thought Harrington was selfish. It's like him never to think how he would make other people suffer. His letters always put Father and Mother in hot water. Have they told her yet, Charles? Oh, I wish I could go and help comfort her! I can't think of anything more mortifying for her."
"Betty, it is good that she will be saved from anything worse. It is good to have it found out beforehand."
"Oh, yes, of course; but she won't think of that. With all the wedding guests coming, how can she have time to be thankful that she is saved from marrying a selfish, bad man? Charles, it is a shame! Somebody ought to be at hand to step in and take Harrington's place. If I were a man, I'd throw myself at her feet and offer to marry her. Say, Charles, why don't you do it yourself?" declared Betty romantically.
The heart of the young man leaped up with a great bound, and a flood of color went over his face and neck. But the parlor was darkened, and, moreover, the girls in the carryall were diligently calling; so Betty vanished to impart the news, and Charles was alone for the moment, with a new thought, which almost took his breath from him.
Then down the oaken staircase, with soft, lady-like, but decided rustle, came Madam Winthrop.
Behind her, nervous, protesting, came her husband's anxious footsteps.
"But, Mother, really, it won't do. We couldn't go, you know, under the circumstances."