“Yes; was I not?” said Constance with perfect candour. “And he took it all in, as if it were likely. These young men from India, they are very ingenuous. It seems wicked to take advantage of them, does it not?” “More people are ingenuous than the young man from India. I intended to speak to you very seriously as soon as he was gone--to ask you----” “What were my intentions?” cried Constance, with an outburst of the gayest laughter. “Oh, what a pity I began! How sorry I am to have missed that! Do you think his mother will ask me, papa? It is generally the man, isn’t it, who is questioned? and he says his intentions are honourable. Mine, I frankly allow, are not honourable.” “No; very much the reverse, I should think. But it had better be clearly defined, for my satisfaction, Constance, which of you is true--the girl who cried over her loneliness last night, or she who made love to Captain Gaunt this morning----” “No, papa; only was a little nice to him, because he is lonely too.” “These delicacies of expression are too fine for me.---- Who made the poor young fellow believe that she liked his society immensely, was much interested, counted upon him and his violin as her greatest pleasures.” “You are going too far,” she said. “I think the fiddle will be fun. When you play very badly and are a little conceited about it, you are always amusing. And as for Captain Gaunt--so long as he does not complain----” “It is I who am complaining, Constance.” “Well, papa--but why? You told me last night to take what I had, since I could not have what I want.” “And you have acted upon my advice? With great promptitude, I must allow.” “Yes,” she said with composure. “What is the use of losing time? It is not my fault if there is somebody here quite ready. It amuses him too. And what harm am I doing? A girl can’t be asked--except for fun--those disagreeable questions.” “And therefore you think a girl can do--what would be dishonourable in a man.” “Oh, you are so much too serious,” cried Constance. “Are you always as serious as this? You laughed when I told you about Fanny Gervoise. Is it only because it is me that you find fault? And don’t you think it is a little too soon for parental interference? The Gaunts would be much surprised. They would think you were afraid for my peace of mind, papa--as her parents were afraid for Miss Tasie.” This moved the stern father to a smile. He had thought that Constance did not appreciate that joke; but the girl had more humour than he supposed. “I see,” he said, “you will have your own way; but remember, Constance, I cannot allow it to go too far.” How could he prevent it going as far as she pleased? she said to herself with a little scorn, when she was alone. Parents may be medieval if they will; but the means have never yet been invented of preventing a woman, when she is so minded and has the power in her hands, from achieving her little triumph over a young man’s heart. CHAPTER XIX.