"Mother," said Potter, "you know Garde, of course.... We're going to be married to-night--here. That's why I asked you to sit up.... I'll leave her with you while I run out to fetch a parson." Hildegarde waited, looking at Mrs. Waite with reserve, expectancy. The older woman stepped forward and took the girl in her arms as her own mother might have done. "My dear," she said. Then, "Tell me about it, son." Potter told all there was to tell, impetuously. His mother watched him tenderly, understandingly, as his face mirrored the emotions that moved within him. She sympathized with her son, loved her son.... And she knew, as she watched him, that he loved this girl, that it was no mere fascination leading him headlong into ill-considered marriage. "And you," she said, holding Hildegarde at arm's-length, "do you love my son?" Hildegarde looked back into those sympathetic eyes, and spoke honestly. "I--don't know," she said. Mrs. Waite nodded. "No one knows you have carried her away?" she asked Potter. "No," he said. "Nobody in the house, anyhow." "That is good. Perhaps she can get back as unseen as she came. Because, son, you must take her home again...." She held up her hand as he would have protested with heat. "Listen, children.... I will welcome you as a daughter, Garde," she said, simply. "You will be very dear to me--if you really want to be my daughter when you have had time to consider.... But you haven't. You're marrying Potter because there seems to be no other way out of it.... That is bad, for him and for you.... I hope you can come to love him as he loves you. But whether you love him or not, most of all if you do love him, you must go home. It never does to start wrong; you must start _clean_.... Let us consider. I'm sure you wouldn't marry Potter until you know whether you love him." "I'd do anything to get away from my father," Hildegarde said, passionately. "Potter," said his mother, "you've been a wild boy, but you've always been honest with me--and tender with me.... For all that has been said about you, I've never heard any one say that you didn't play fair. People have always said that Potter Waite wasn't the man to cheat or to take advantage.... You're not being a good sportsman now. You're cheating--cheating Garde, cheating yourself, cheating Mr. von Essen.... If you married Garde in this way it would be a story to follow her for years. It would be twisted, falsely told, garbled. You would both know bitter regret over it. And it isn't necessary.... Hildegarde wants to leave her home. Well, let her leave it without the breath of scandal following. It will mean only a little patience, only a little waiting.... Take her home, son; then go to-morrow to Mr. von Essen, and ask his permission for your marriage." "He would refuse," said Potter.