lease send me some coffee," said Anne, without opening the door. "I do
not care for anything else. I will be ready soon."

She dressed herself slowly, swallowing the coffee. But youth is strong;
the cold bath and the fresh white morning dress made her look as fair as
ever. Miss Vanhorn was waiting for her in the little parlor. Bessmer was
sent away, and the door closed. The girl remained standing, and took
hold of the back of a chair to nerve herself for the first step along
the hard, lonely road stretching out before her like a desert.

"Anne," began Miss Vanhorn, in a magisterial voice, "what did Mr. Dexter
say to you last evening?"

"He asked me to be his wife."

"I hardly expected it so soon, although I knew it would come in time,"
said the old woman, with a swallow of satisfaction. "Sit down. And don't
be an idiot. You will now listen to _me_. Mr. Dexter is a rich man; he
is what is called a rising man (if any one wants to rise); he is a good
enough man also, as men go. He has no claim as regards family; neither
have you. He is a thorough and undiluted American; so are you. He will
be a kind husband, and one far higher in the world than you had any
right to expect. On the other hand, you will do very well as his wife,
for you have fair ability and a pretty face (it is of course your pink
and white beauty that has won him), and principles enough for both.
Like all people who have made money rapidly, he is lavish, and will deny
you nothing; he will even allow you, I presume, to help one and all of
that colony of children, priests, old maids, and dogs, up on that
island. See what power will be put into your hands! You might labor all
your life, and not accomplish one-hundredth part of that which, as
Gregory Dexter's wife, you could do in one day.

"As to your probable objection--the boy-and-girl engagement in which you
were foolish enough to entangle yourself--I will simply say, leave it to
time; it will break itself. How do you know that it is not, in fact,
broken already? The Pronando blood is faithless in its very essence,"
added the old woman, bitterly. "Mr. Dexter is a man of the world. I will
explain it to him myself; he will understand, and will not urge you at
present. He will wait, as I shall, for the natural solution of time. But
in the mean while you must not offend him; he is not at all a man whom a
woman can offend with impunity. He is vain, and has a singularly
mistaken idea of his own importance. Ag