Little the Greek suspected, when she asked if “I could not fix a quarrel on him,” with what a motive it was that my heart jumped at the suggestion! He is so studiously ceremonious and distant with me; he seems to think I am not one of those to be admitted to closer intimacy. I know that English theory of “the unsafe man,” by which people of unquestionable courage avoid contact with all schooled to other ways and habits than their own. I hate it. “I am unsafe,” to his thinking. Well, if having no reason to care for safety be sufficient, he is not far wrong. Dick Kearney, too, is not very cordial. He scarcely seconded his father’s invitation to me, and what he did say was merely what courtesy obliged. So that in reality, though the old lord was hearty and good-natured, I believe I am here now because Mademoiselle Nina commanded me, rather than from any other reason. If this be true, it is, to say the least, a sorry compliment to my sense of delicacy. Her words were, “You shall stay,” and it is upon this I am staying.’ As though the air of the room grew more hard to breathe with this thought before him, he arose and leaned half-way out of the window. As he did so, his ear caught the sound of voices. It was Kate and Nina, who were talking on the terrace above his head. ‘I declare, Nina,’ said Kate, ‘you have stripped every leaf off my poor ivy-geranium; there’s nothing left of it but bare branches.’ ‘There goes the last handful,’ said the other, as she threw them over the parapet, some falling on Gorman as he leaned out. ‘It was a bad habit I learned from yourself, child. I remember when I came here, you used to do this each night, like a religious rite.’ ‘I suppose they were the dried or withered leaves that I threw away,’ said Kate, with a half-irritation in her voice. ‘No, they were not. They were oftentimes from your prettiest roses, and as I watched you, I saw it was in no distraction or inadvertence you were doing this, for you were generally silent and thoughtful some time before, and there was even an air of sadness about you, as though a painful thought was bringing its gloomy memories.’ ‘What an object of interest I have been to you without suspecting it,’ said Kate coldly. ‘It is true,’ said the other, in the same tone; ‘they who make few confidences suggest much ingenuity. If you had a meaning in this act and told me what it was, it is more than likely I had forgotten all about it ere now. You preferred secrecy, and you made me curious.’ ‘There was nothing to reward curiosity,’ said she, in the same measured tone; then, after a moment, she added, ‘I’m sure I never sought to ascribe some hidden motive to _you_. When _you_ left my plants leafless, I was quite content to believe that you were mischievous without knowing it.’