"Mr. Blatchford told me that might be the arrangement." "Oh, you had some talk with Mr. Blatchford, then?" "We introduced ourselves." Harriet was silent for a moment, evidently expecting some comment from him; when he offered none, she said, "Father would not like you to accept the estimate of him which Mr. Blatchford must have given you." "What do you mean?" "Didn't Mr. Blatchford argue with you that Father must be the greatest man living?" "He certainly expressed great admiration for your father," Eaton said. "He is your cousin?" "I call him that; he's Father's cousin. They were very close friends when they were boys, though Cousin Wallace is a few years older. They entered preparatory school together and were together all through college and ever since. I suppose Cousin Wallace told you that it was he-- Those are the garages and stables over there to the north, Mr. Eaton. This road leads to them. And over there are the toolhouses and gardeners' quarters; you can only just see them through the trees." She had interrupted herself suddenly, as though she realized that his attention had not been upon what she was saying but given to the plan of the grounds. He recalled himself quickly. "Yes; what was it you were saying about Mr. Blatchford?" She glanced at him keenly, then colored and went on. "I was saying that Father and he went through college together. They both were looked upon as young men of very unusual promise--Mr. Blatchford especially; I suppose because Father, being younger, had not shown so plainly what he might become. Then Father was blinded--he was just sixteen; and--and Cousin Wallace never fulfilled the promise he had given." "I don't quite see the connection," Eaton offered. "Oh, I thought Cousin Wallace must have told you; he tells almost every one as soon as he meets them. It was he who blinded Father. It was a hunting accident, and Father was made totally blind. Father always said it wasn't Cousin Wallace's fault; but Mr. Blatchford was almost beside himself because he believed he had ruined Father's life. But Father went on and did all that he has done, while it stopped poor Cousin Wallace. It's queer how things work out! Cousin Wallace thought it was Father's, but it was his own life that he destroyed. He's happy only when Father wants him with him; and to himself--and to most people--he's only the man that blinded Basil Santoine." "I think I shall understand him now," Eaton said quietly. "I like the way you said that.... Here, Mr. Eaton, is the best place to see the grounds." Their path had topped a little rise; they stopped; and Eaton, as she pointed out the different objects, watched carefully and printed the particulars and the general arrangement of the surroundings on his memory.