“Not the least, though I’ve noticed it,” returned the imperturbable Fernando. “Well, I haven’t either,” said Harrington. “But see here. You remember what you said to me at my room about a week ago. Previous to that conversation, it was my own fancy that Richard was very much attached to Miss Ames. You surprised me very much when you told me you thought his feeling was for—for Muriel. I never should have guessed it. You astonished me still more by what you told me after that. But something Richard said just now made me fancy that you may have been mistaken, and I want to ask you if you are perfectly sure of what you saw.” Harrington paused again, nervously twitching his beard with his large shapely hand. Before Witherlee could reply, he went on again. “Let me recall that conversation,” he said. “You sat in my arm-chair smoking, and you were praising Muriel, which was pleasant for me to hear. Presently, you remarked, ‘she’ll make Wentworth a superb wife,’ and then you quoted from Tennyson’s ‘Isabel’—‘the queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.’ I was, I own, amazed. ‘Why, Wentworth?’ I asked. You looked surprised, and said, ‘Why not Wentworth?’ Then you added—‘When people love, don’t they marry?’ ‘Certainly,’ I returned, ‘but you are mistaken, I think.’ ‘I think not,’ you replied, with a manner so cool and positive, that I was, to be frank with you, a little annoyed. I was about to drop the subject there, for it seemed to me hardly fair to canvass such a matter, when you remarked, ‘In fact, I _know_ I’m not.’ I replied, ‘It is quite impossible that you should _know_ it, Fernando, though you may have what seem to you strong reasons for believing it.’ You answered, rather unkindly it appeared to me—‘Do you doubt my word?’ ‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘How can you think so—it’s not a question of veracity at all, but of judgment?’ ‘Well,’ said you, ‘I have proof—ocular proof—I wouldn’t say it if you didn’t put me to it.’ And then you told me that you visited the house the previous afternoon, and as you were entering the parlor, you saw Richard and Muriel standing together at the other end of the room, with their arms around each other, and saw them kiss each other. You drew back instantly, you said, without having been perceived by them, and made a clatter in the hall before you entered again. I could hardly forgive you at the time for having told me what you saw, or myself for having listened to you, for it was not a thing to be either told of or listened to. But I grant it happened naturally enough in the heat of the moment, and after all, I am glad to have known of an occurrence, the knowledge of which may prevent misunderstanding and trouble.”