Anthony fretted at the death of the Major--fretted at the publicity--fretted at the time of the man’s dying, and the manner; for he had decided to appeal to Betty not to spoil Noll’s prospects, now so suddenly brightening, by getting him entangled in a childish engagement. But Modeyne’s death made it wholly indecent to approach the already so indecent subject for some time; made it in any case the more difficult to broach at all; made it also more urgent that it should be approached. And, to fret the will with further indecision, Anthony, his eyes intent upon the pale girl in the simple black gown, and balked by the strange gravity that had settled upon the slim dainty figure, perceived the exquisite approach, the delicate fragrance and most subtle atmosphere of the coming of womanhood--an atmosphere which made it doubly difficult for him to commit himself to putting into the brutality of speech what cost him shame even in the thinking. Had he only taken Caroline into his scheme, he would not have blundered thus clumsily into a brutality; but he did not--and, with his fatal capacity for not leaving well alone, fretting impatiently through the keen bitter winds of March and the early days of April, he at last brought himself to the pitch of seeing the girl alone and making his appeal. When Anthony knocked at the door and entered her room, she arose, with a smile, to greet him; and he found himself mute. She was so comely, this slender girl of fifteen years, so debonair--as is meet and fit in the young of the most beautiful of all created things. The brown hair, tied with a ribbon at the nape of the white neck, showed the great beauty of the shapely head; and he knew that the soul within the delicate body was the most mystically beautiful of all. He realized that the slightest cruelty would leave harsh scars. Yet he did not withhold himself from the brutalities. She would have made him at ease so prettily; and he decided to be blunt and strike at once, if he would say what he had come to say. “Betty,” said he, “I have come to say a thing which it hurts me to the quick to say; which of course must wound you even more. Don’t make it an added bitterness to me by being too much your dainty self--rather be unpleasant--if you can.” The light went out of the trustful grey eyes; the smile flickered out and slowly left the pure face. The slender hands trembled a little--the large eyelids fell, and she bowed her comely head. She wondered what new agony lay in store for her. Thus she stood and said never a word. Just one little movement--the interlacing of the slender fingers together before her--it hid the trembling of the white hands--and she prepared to meet what cut of the lash should fall, in silent dignity. Anthony was taken up with his own difficulty,--yet, as he spoke, the picture of the girl’s humiliation slowly bit into his imagination.