his curiosity: "It all came about so
fortunately. Only fancy, just the week they met I got a little legacy
from an aunt in Elmira--a good soul I hadn't seen or heard of for
years. I suppose I ought to have put on mourning for her, by the way,
but it would have eaten up a good bit of the legacy, and I really
needed it all for poor Hermy. Oh, it's not a fortune, you
understand--but the young man is madly in love, and has always had his
own way, so after a lot of correspondence it's been arranged. They saw
Hermy this morning, and they're enchanted."

"And the marriage takes place very soon?"

"Yes, in a few weeks, here. His mother is an invalid and couldn't have
gone to England. Besides, the French don't travel. And as Hermy has
become a Catholic--"

"Already?"

Mrs. Newell stared. "It doesn't take long. And it suits Hermy
exactly--she can go to church so much oftener. So I thought," Mrs.
Newell concluded with dignity, "that a wedding at Saint Philippe du
Roule would be the most suitable thing at this season."

"Dear me," said Garnett, "I am left breathless--I can't catch up with
you. I suppose even the day is fixed, though Miss Hermione doesn't
mention it," and he indicated the official announcement in his hand.

Mrs. Newell laughed. "Hermy had to write that herself, poor dear,
because my scrawl's too hideous--but I dictated it. No, the day isn't
fixed--that's why I sent for you." There was a splendid directness
about Mrs. Newell. It would never have occurred to her to pretend to
Garnett that she had summoned him for the pleasure of his company.

"You've sent for me--to fix the day?" he enquired humourously.

"To remove the last obstacle to its being fixed."

"I? What kind of an obstacle could I have the least effect on?"

Mrs. Newell met his banter with a look which quelled it. "I want you to
find her father."

"Her father? Miss Hermione's--?"

"My husband, of course. I suppose you know he's living."

Garnett blushed at his own clumsiness. "I--yes--that is, I really knew
nothing--" he stammered, feeling that each word added to it. If
Hermione was unnoticeable, Mr. Newell had always been invisible. The
young man had never so much as given him a thought, and it was awkward
to come on him so suddenly at a turn of the talk.

"Well, he is--living here in Paris," said Mrs. Newell, with a note of
asperity which seemed to imply that her friend might have taken the
trouble to post himself on this point.

"In Pa