“But not too distant, papa,” said Rita; “for I think it a great deal better that he should suppose I do not know. Far better. I will behave to him just as usual. I will withdraw gradually, bit by bit, that he may not feel too much difference. Indeed, unless he is different to me, I don’t see why I should be different to him. Of course he will be on his guard. You see he _knows now_. Naturally he will be more careful. He will understand that if you let him come back he is upon his honour. So, on the whole, I will make very little difference. I think it is far better that everything should have the look of being just the same as before.” With this Mr. Bonamy was obliged to be satisfied. He had known very well when the discussion began that Rita’s will, whatever it might be, was the thing that would be done. He had in his own mind a great many troubled reflections, considering how he was to do it, so as not to excite false hopes or vain expectations in the young man’s mind; but it was, from the moment when she declared her sovereign will, a foregone conclusion. He had not resolved the question how it was to be done, up to the time he went into his office in the morning, and then thought it best to leave it to chance and the inspiration of the moment. When he sent for Harry to speak with him he had still but a very faint idea what to say. The young man came in looking somewhat dull and depressed, as he did always now, and no longer expectant of anything better, as he had been at the first. It was a moment of leisure, and the Vice-Consul had the air of a man with something disagreeable rather than something pleasant to say. His look was artificial, and the smile which adorned his face was forced and uncomfortable. “Come in, Oliver, come in,” he said, with an air of affected geniality. Harry thought he was going to receive his dismissal; he did not think that anything less could give his kind and friendly patron an aspect so little natural. “Sit down,” said the Vice-Consul, “I have something to say before business begins this afternoon. Oliver, I have been going through quite a passage of arms on your account.” “On my account?” said Harry, feeling as if his heart stopped beating; he thought within himself, that this passage of arms must have been with some of the authorities of the F. O., who perhaps had been stirred up to ask what a stranger, without recommendations, was doing there. It seemed to him that the next thing which would be said must be, “I have no further occasion for your services,” and braced himself for these words. “Don’t be frightened; yes, you look frightened,” said Mr. Bonamy, still with that false geniality, “but no harm has come of it. You met--my daughter--the other day.” “Yes.” Harry’s heart re-commenced beating, and went so fast that it almost choked him. “It was an accident, Sir; I did not see Miss Bonamy till I was close upon her, I could not escape.”