Sir Everard arose, but Harrie grasped her father's cold hand in terror.
"No, no, papa! I will not leave you. Let me stay. I will be very quiet—I shall not disturb you."
"As you like, my dear. She will call you, Kingsland, by and by."
The young man left the room. Then Harriet lifted a pale, reproachful face to her father.
"Papa, how could you?"
"My dear, you are not sorry? You will love this young man very dearly, and he loves you."
"But his mother, Lady Kingsland, detests me. And, I want to enter no man's house unwelcome."
"My dear, don't be hasty. How do you know Lady Kingsland detests you? That is impossible, I think. She will be a kind mother to my little motherless girl. Ah, pitiful Heaven! that agony is to come yet!"
A spasm of pain convulsed his features, his brows knit, his eyes gleamed.
"Harrie," he said, hoarsely, grasping her hands, "I have a secret to tell you—a horrible secret of guilt and disgrace! It has blighted my life, blasted every hope, turned the whole world into a black and festering mass of corruption! And, oh! worst of all, you must bear it—your life must be darkened, too. But not until the grave has closed over me. My child, look here."