ingly to you
from him. I tell you, however, that I am fearfully within that villain's
power, and cannot help myself. No, I've done no crime; but none the less
he has it in his hands to cover me with disgrace--destroy me, and every
sign of me, from the midst of respectable men. It would avail nothing
should I show you how he spread a snare for my feet, and how blindly I
walked into it. I can only say again that he has me helpless, hand and
foot; I am his to make or break in all that a man of honor or station
holds dearest. He can cover me with infamy at will; he can unloose upon
me an avalanche of disgrace, and with the one blow crush us all. I keep
back nothing, exaggerate nothing, I merely lay bare to you what is. Once
the stroke falls, I shall never again hold up my head. Indeed, I shall
not live to see it fall, for when I know it is inevitable I shall take
my own life."

Mr. Harley paused a moment to recall his coolness, while Dorothy, her
little hands crushed between her knees, sat panting like a spent hare.

"I have given you my precise position," continued Mr. Harley, with a
sort of hopelessness. "I shall now tell you the conditions upon which my
safety depends. They rest with you; I stand or fall as you decide."
Dorothy tried to speak, but her voice died on her lips. "If you receive
Count Storri, not as a lover, but as an acquaintance, or, if you will, a
friend; and if you have no further meeting--that is, for a month--or
perhaps two--or at the most three--have no further interviews, I
say"--Mr. Harley blundered a trifle as he saw Dorothy's face whitening
with the sorrows he was laying upon her--"have no further interviews
with Mr. Storms, I am saved. Forgive me--forgive your father who has so
failed of his duty that, instead of protecting you, he comes to you for
protection. There is no more: You have my fortune, my good repute, my
life in your charge. If you meet Count Storri in friendship, if you
refuse Mr. Storms, I am secure. Should you fail of either, then, by
heart and soul! I think it is my end!"

CHAPTER XII

HOW MR. FOPLING WAS INSPIRED

Next to Richard, Dorothy worshiped her father. Women never weigh men
closely; with them it is the kindness of men that counts, and all her
life no one could have been more generously affectionate than was Mr.
Harley to Dorothy. And now her estimate of him became her memory of his
unflagging goodness; and this kept her from harsh judgment as he told
what he