Harriet waited, amused, annoyed, impatient.

“I understand,” Madame Carter said, “that you and my son—­for some reason best known to yourselves—­have entered into a secret marriage?”

“Your first object, my dear, is not to antagonize his mother!” Harriet reminded herself.  Aloud she said mildly:  “You have no reason to disbelieve it, have you?”

“No reason to disbelieve my son!” his mother echoed, scandalized.  “Why should I have!  Mr. Carter is the soul of honour—­absolutely the soul.  Upon my word, I don’t understand you!”

“I said you have no reason to disbelieve him,” Harriet repeated.  “You said that you understood that we had been married.  It is true!”

And she looked off toward the river with an expression as composed as that of Madame Carter herself.

“I suppose you know that old saying:  ’A secret bride has a secret to hide!’” the older woman pursued, pleasantly.

“I never heard it.  I did not play much with the children of the neighbourhood when I was a child,” Harriet answered.  “My father was very anxious to protect us from picking up expressions of that sort!”

There was a silence.  Harriet, beginning to be ashamed of herself, did not look at her companion.

“A girl of your age has a great deal of confidence when she marries into a family like mine,” the old lady said, presently, in a tone that trembled a little.  “My son is a rich man—­he is a prominent man.  He has used his own judgment, of course.  But I confess that in your place I should not carry myself with quite so much an air of—­triumph!  It seems to me—­”

Harriet had had time to reflect that such an opening would certainly lead to tears and hysteria now, and might easily begin an estrangement that would sadden and disappoint Richard.  A few more such exchanges, and his mother would retire worsted to her room, might possibly leave his house, and punish Harriet cruelly through him.  She determinedly regained her calm, and taking the chair next to the enraged old lady, quietly interrupted the flow of her angry words.

“I hope I have shown no air of triumph, Madame Carter,” Harriet said.  “You yourself—­and most wisely!—­pointed out to us a few months ago that the arrangement here was unconventional—­”

“Everyone was talking, if you mind that!” the old lady snapped.  But she was slightly mollified, none-the-less.  “But upon my word, you’d think marrying into the family was something to be done every day—!” she was beginning again, when Harriet interrupted again.

“No—­no,” she said, soothingly, conceding the last words an amused smile that itself rather helped to placate her companion.  “It is, of course, the most serious step of my life!  But the secrecy—­as of course you will appreciate—­was because there has been so much terrible notoriety this year!  Why, Mr. Carter tells me that never in the history of all the Carters—­”