Captain Carbury looked somewhat surprised, then he said, quietly:
"About your father; well, of course, I—I can't speak about him, you know, but there's—there's Lady Helen. How would she enjoy your programme?"
"There would be no programme at all, no dream to be fulfilled, no happiness to be secured, if she went with us," I answered.
"Oh, I see," he answered; "poor little Miss Heather!" And he whistled softly under his breath.
I looked full at him.
"You don't like her either," I said, and it seemed to me that a new and very strong chord of sympathy sprang up between us as I uttered the words.
"No," he answered. "I won't say why—I won't give any reasons; she may mean all right, but she's a worldly woman, and I don't care a bit about worldly women. I am afraid you won't have your dream, Miss Heather, so I must tell you what is the next best thing for you to do."
"But there is no next best," I replied.
"Yes, there is. Now listen to me attentively. The very best thing, all circumstances considered, for you to do is to get engaged right away to the sort of fellow who understands you and whom you understand—the sort of man who would put you into his gallery, you know, and whom you would put into your gallery. Oh, yes, you comprehend what I mean. The best thing for you, Miss Heather, is to get engaged to that man, and when once you are engaged not on any account to break off your engagement, but to have it speedily followed by marriage. You'd be as happy as the day is long with the man who understands you, and whom you understood. And, for that matter, you could have your cottage in the country, only it would not be shared by your father but by—well, by the other man—the man who understands you so well, you know."
"I don't know," I said; "and I certainly won't marry any man unless I love him."