“You'll regret it all your life if you fail her now, dad. Why, hang it all, you're not an old man! You are less than fifty. Your heart hasn't dried up yet. Your blood is still hot. And she is glorious. Give yourself a chance. You know that she's one woman in a million, and she's yours! She has made you happy, she can make you still happier.” “No, I am not old. I am far younger than I was fifteen years ago. That's what I am afraid of--this youth I really never possessed till now. If I gave way to it now I'd--well, I would be like putty in her hands. She could go on laughing at me, trifling with me, fooling me to------” “She wouldn't do that!” exclaimed his son hotly. “I don't blame you for defending her. It's right that you should. You are forgetting the one important condition, however. She can never reconcile herself to the position you would put her in if I permitted you to persuade me that------” “I can tell you one thing, father, that you ought to know, if you are so blind that you haven't discovered it for yourself. She loves you.” “You are very young, my boy.” Brood shook his head and smiled faintly. “What's to become of her? You are leaving her without a thought for her future. You------” “I fancy she is quite capable of arranging her future. As a matter of fact, she had arranged it pretty definitely before this thing happened. Leave it to her, Frederic. It is impossible for me to take her away with us. It is not to be considered.” “All right, but bear this in mind: Lydia loves Yvonne, and she's heart-broken. Now we'll talk about her, if you like.” Lydia had as little success in her rather more tactful interview with Yvonne. “Thank you, dear, I am satisfied,” said she. “Everything has turned out as it should. The wicked enchantress has been foiled and virtue triumphs. Don't be unhappy on my account, Lydia. It will not be easy to say good-bye to you and Frederic, but--_là! là!_ What are we to do? Now please don't speak of it again. Hearts are easily mended. Look at my husband--_aïe!_ He has had his heart made over from top to bottom--in a rough crucible, it's true, but it's as good as new, you'll admit. In a way, I am made over, too. I am happier than I've ever been in my life. I'm in love with my husband, I'm in love with you and Frederic, and I am more than ever in love with myself. So there! Don't feel sorry for me. I shall have the supreme joy of knowing that not one of you will ever forget me or my deeds, good and bad. Who knows? I am still young, you know. Time has the chance to be very kind to me before I die.” That last observation lingered in Lydia's mind. But despite her careless treatment of the situation, Yvonne awaited with secret dread the coming of that hour when James Brood would say goodbye to her and, instead of turning her away from his house, would go out of it himself without a single _command_ to her. He would not tell her that it was no longer her home, nor would he tell her that it was.