“To leave her father’s house!” said the mother, with increasing alarm.

Brand looked at her.  He could not understand this expression of anxious concern.  If, as he was beginning to assure himself, Lind was the cause of that long and cruel separation between mother and daughter, why should this woman be aghast at the notion of Natalie leaving such a guardian?  Or was it merely a superstitious fear of him, similar to that which seemed to possess Calabressa?

“In dealing with your daughter, madame,” he continued, “one has to be careful not to take advantage of her forgetfulness of herself.  She is too willing to sacrifice herself for others.  Now to-day we were talking—­as she is not free to marry until she is twenty-one—­about her perhaps going over to America under the guardianship of Madame Potecki—­”

“Madame Potecki.”

“She is a friend of your daughter’s—­almost a mother to her; and I am not sure but that Natalie would willingly do that—­more especially under your guardianship, in preference to that of Madame Potecki—­”

“Oh no, no!” she exclaimed, instantly.  “She must not dare her father like that.  Oh, it would be terrible!  I hope you will not allow her.”

“It is not a question of daring; the girl has courage enough for anything,” he said coolly.  “The thing is that it would involve too great a sacrifice on her part; and I was exceedingly selfish to think of it for a moment.  No; let her remain in her father’s house until she is free to act as her own mistress; then, if she will come to me, I shall take care that a proper home is provided for her.  She must not be a wanderer and a stranger.”

“But even then, when she is free to act, you will not ask her to disobey her father?  Oh, it will be too terrible!”

Again he regarded her with amazement.

“What do you mean, madame?  What is terrible?  Or is it that you are afraid of him?  Calabressa spoke like that.”

“You do not know of what he is capable,” she said, with a sigh.

“All the more reason,” he said, directly, “why she should be removed from his guardianship.  But permit me to say, madame, that I do not quite share your apprehensions.  I have seen nothing of the bogey kind about your husband.  Of course, he is a man of strong will, and he does not like to be thwarted:  without that strength of character he could not have done what he has done.  But he also knows that his daughter is no longer a child, and when the proper time comes you will find that his common sense will lead him to withdraw an opposition which would otherwise be futile.  Do I explain myself clearly?  My dear madame, have no anxiety about the future of your daughter.  When you see herself, when you speak to her, you will find that she is one who is not given to fear.”

For a moment the apprehensive look left her face.  She remained silent, a happier light coming into her eyes.

“She is not sad and sorrowful, then?” she said, presently.