"Yes," she said, "he is coming to New York in a short time, and then, I suppose, there is no doubt that all will be finally arranged. I confess to you I have the weakness to feel a little depressed about it. Did you ever read Jean Ingelow's _Songs of Seven_, Mr. Henderson? I think she touches so beautifully on the trials of mothers in giving up their daughters?" I said, "I only trust that Mr. Sydney is in some degree worthy of Miss Van Arsdel; though," I added with warmth, "no man can be wholly so." "Eva is a good girl," said Mrs. Van Arsdel, "and I must confess that the parting from her will be the greatest trial of my life. But I thought I would let you know how matters stood, because of the very great confidence which we feel in you." I found presence of mind to acknowledge politely my sense of the honor conferred. Mrs. Van Arsdel continued playing prettily with her rings. "One thing more perhaps I ought to say, Mr. Henderson, while your intimacy in our family is and has been quite what I desire, yet you know people are so absurd, and will say such absurd things, that it might not be out of the way to suggest a little caution; you know one wouldn't want to give rise to any reports that might be unpleasant--anything, you know, that might reach Mr. Sydney's ear--you understand me." "My dear Mrs. Van Arsdel, is it possible that anything has been said?" "Now, now, don't agitate yourself, Mr. Henderson; I know what you are going to say--no, nothing of the kind. But you know that we elderly people, who know the world and just what stupid and unreasonable things people are always saying, sometimes have to give you young folks just the slightest little caution. Your conduct in this family has been all that is honorable, and gentlemanly, and unexceptionable, Mr. Henderson, and such as would lead us to repose the most perfect confidence in you. In fact, I beg you to consider this communication with regard to Eva's connection with Mr. Sydney, as quite in confidence." "I certainly shall do so," said I, rising to take my leave, with much the same sort of eagerness with which one rises from a dentist's chair, after having his nerves picked at. As at this moment the voices of the returning party broke up our interview, I immediately arose, and excusing myself with the plea of an article to finish, left the house and walked home in a state of mind as disagreeable as my worst enemy could have wished. Like all delicate advisers who are extremely fearful of hurting your feelings, Mrs. Van Arsdel had told me nothing definite, and yet had said enough to make me supremely uncomfortable. What did she mean, and how much did she mean? Had there been reports? Was this to be received as an intimation from Eva herself? Had she discovered the state of my feelings, and was she, through her mother, warning me of my danger?