"So I have thought for years! When he got over his attack of you, I began to hope, although I'd got wrinkles crying about him. I never thought of any other woman in the case." She laughed, with a defiant attempt to recover her old spirits. "And I cannot have the happiness of seeing him one day in bronze, and feeling that he is all mine! For he hasn't even that spark of luck which so often passes for infinitesimal greatness, poor dear!" "How did you guess that she had the taint in her?" asked Betty, as they were about to land. "She has not a suggestion of it in her face." "I _felt_ it. So vaguely that I scarcely put it in words to myself until lately. And I never saw such an amount of pink on finger-nails in my life." VI Betty went in search of Harriet, and found her in a summer-house reading an innocuous French romance which her professor had selected. There was no place near by where Miss Trumbull might lie concealed, and Betty went to the point at once. "Harriet," she said, "I am obliged to say something horribly painful--if you want to marry any man you must tell him the truth. It would be a crime not to. The prejudices of--of--Southerners are deep and bitter; and--and--Oh, it is a terrible thing to have to say--but I must--if you had children they might be black." For a moment Betty thought that Harriet was dead, she turned so gray and her gaze was so fixed. But she spoke in a moment. "Why do you say this to me--now?" "Because I fear you and Jack--Oh, I hope it is not true. The person who thinks you love each other may have been mistaken. But I could not wait to warn you. I should have told you in the beginning that when the time came either you must tell the man or I should; but it was a hateful subject. God knows it is hard to speak now." Harriet seemed to have recovered herself. The colour returned slowly to her face, her heavy lids descended. She rose and drew herself up to her full height with the air of complete melancholy which recalled one or two other memorable occasions. But there was a subtle change. The attitude did not seem so natural to her as formerly. "Your informant was only half right," she said sadly. "I love him, but he cares nothing for me. He is the best, the kindest of friends. It is no wonder that I love him. I suppose I was bound to love the first man who treated me with affectionate respect. I reckon I'd have fallen in love with Uncle if he'd been younger. Perhaps--in Europe--I may get over it. But he does not love me." Betty rose and looked at her steadily. _What_ was in the brain behind those sad reproachful eyes? She laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Harriet," she said solemnly, "give me your word of honour that you will not marry him without telling him the truth. It may be that he does not love you, but he might--and if you were without hope you would be unhappy. Promise me."