She flushed scarlet.
“My dear Harriet, I fear you are too fond of sleeping. Surely you understand that you can no longer remain an inmate of this house, now that—that I am a lonely widower? Much as I regret—ahem!—you will admit, I feel confident, that you cannot remain under present circumstances.”
“Not under present circumstances,” answered Harriet.
She waited for one long second, her black eyes aflame, full on his face. Then the balance in which her fate hung snapped suddenly. She sat, self-possessed, amid the collapse of all her hopes.
“I shall always take an interest in you,” said Mynheer Mopius, adjusting his neat white mourning-tie; “and I mean to act very generously, to begin with. I shall take lodgings for you for one month, paying your board. I should have added a little cash for current expenses, but you aunt’s legacy has made that superfluous.”
“Aunt Sarah left me a hundred florins and her Bible,” said Harriet.
“Dear woman, she did! She always thought of others. You are welcome to the money, Harriet; fully, frankly welcome. But the Bible! That is a memento of her I would fain have retained.”
“Buy it of me?” said Harriet. “How much will you give for it? Ten florins?”
“Harriet, I am shocked,” replied Mynheer Mopius, hastily. “The month’s board will leave you ample time to look out for a situation.”