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“Our young people seem to have made up their minds that they cannot live apart,” she said.

“So my son has informed me.”

Mr. Anderson spoke gravely and then paused. His habitually confident manner betrayed signs of nervousness.

“I told him this morning that there could be no engagement until after I had talked with you,” he added.

One could have heard a pin drop. Each of the sisters was tremulous to know what was coming next. Could he possibly be meditating purse-proud opposition? The Ripley blue blood simmered at the thought, and Miss Rebecca, nervous in her turn, tapped the ground lightly with her foot.

“The day I was first here,” he resumed, “you ladies taught me a lesson. I believed then that money could command anything. I discovered that I was mistaken. It provoked me, but it set me thinking. I’ve learned since that the almighty dollar cannot buy gentle birth and–and the standards which go with it.”

Unexpectedly edifying as this admission was, his listeners sought in vain to connect it with the immediate issue, and consequently forebore to speak.

“The only return I can make for opening my eyes to the real truth is by doing what I guess you would do if you or one of your folk were in my shoes. I’m a very rich man, as you know. If your niece marries my son her children will never come to want in their time. He’s a good boy, if I do say it; and I should be mighty proud of her.”

Miss Carry breathed a gentle sigh of relief at this last avowal.

“I don’t want her to marry him, though, without knowing the truth, and perhaps when you hear it you’ll decide that she must give him up.”

Thereupon Mr. Anderson blew his nose by way of gathering his faculties for the crucial words as a carter rests his horse before mounting the final hill when the sledding is hard.

“I’m going to tell you how I made my first start. I was a clerk in a bank and sharp as a needle in forecasting what was going to happen downtown. I used to say to myself that if I had capital it would be easy to make money breed money. Well, one day I borrowed from the bank, without the bank’s leave, $3,000 in order to speculate. I won on that deal and the next and the next. Then I was able to return what I’d borrowed and to set up in a small way for myself in the furniture business. That was my start, ladies–the nest-egg of all I’ve got.”

He sat back in his chair and passed his handkerchief across his forehead like one who has performed with credit an agonizing duty.

There was silence for a moment. Unequivocal as the confession was, Miss Rebecca, reluctant to believe her ears, asked with characteristic bluntness:

“You mean that you–er–misappropriated the money?”

“I was an embezzler, strictly speaking.”

“I see.”

“Perhaps you wonder why I told you this,” he said, bending forward.

“No, we understand,” said Miss Rebecca.

“We understand perfectly,” exclaimed Miss Carry with gentle warmth.

“It’s very honest of you, Mr. Anderson,” said Miss Rebecca after a musing pause.

“I’ve never been dishonest since then,” he remarked naively. “But a year ago I wouldn’t have told you this, though it’s been in the back of my mind as a rankling sore, growing as I grew in wealth and respectability. I made a bluff at believing that it didn’t matter, and that a thing done has an end. Well, now I’ve made a clean breast of it to the ones who have a right to know. I should like you to tell Mabel.”

As he spoke the lovers appeared in the near distance at the edge of the lawn, coming up from the beach. “But I don’t think it will be necessary to tell my son,” he added yearningly.

“Certainly not” said Miss Rebecca with emphasis.

The sisters exchanged glances, trying to read each other’s thoughts.

“It’s a blot in the ‘scutcheon, of course,” said Miss Rebecca. “It’s for our niece to say.” But there was no sternness in her tone.

This gave Miss Carry courage. Her hand shook a little as she put down her teacup, for she was shy of taking the initiative. “I think I know what she would say. In our time it would probably have been different, on account of the family–and heredity; but Mabel is a modern girl. And a modern girl would say that she isn’t to marry the father but the son. She loves him, so I’m certain she would never give him up. Therefore is it best to tell her?”

Daniel Anderson’s face was illumined with the light of hope, and he turned to the elder sister, whom he recognized as the final judge.

Miss Rebecca sniffed. Her ideas of everlasting justice were a little disconcerted. Nevertheless she said firmly after brief hesitation:

“I was taught to believe that the sins of the fathers should be visited on the children; but I believe, Carry, you’re right.”

“Bless you for that,” exclaimed the furniture king. Then, groping in the excess of his emotion for some fit expression of gratitude, he bent forward and, taking Miss Rebecca’s hand, pressed his lips upon her fingers as an act of homage.

Miss Carry would have been justified in reflecting that it would have been more fitting had he kissed her fingers instead. But she was used to taking the second place in the household, and the happy expression of her countenance suggested that her thoughts were otherwise engaged.