“But—­father,” her voice trembling, “I—­I am not so sure that I wish to marry Captain Le Gaire at—­at all.”

“Not marry him!  Why, I supposed that was settled—­you seemed very happy—­”

“Yes, once,” she broke in.  “I thought I loved him—­perhaps I did—­but he has not appeared the same man to me of late.  I cannot explain; I cannot even tell what it is I mean, but I am afraid to go on.  I want more time to decide, to learn my own heart.”

“You poor little girl, you are nervous, excited.”

“No, it is not that, papa.  I simply doubt myself, my future happiness with this man.  Surely you will not urge me to marry one I do not love?”

“No, girlie; but this decision comes so suddenly.  I had believed you very happy together, and even to-night, when this plan was first broached, there was no word of protest uttered.  I thought you were glad.”

“Not glad!  I was stunned, too completely surprised to object.  You all took my willingness so for granted that I could find no words to express my real feelings.  Indeed I do not believe I knew what they were—­not until I sat here alone thinking, and then there came to me a perfect horror of it all.  I tried to fight my doubts, tried to convince myself that it was right to proceed, but only to find it impossible.  I loathe the very thought; if I consent I know I shall regret the act as long as I live.”  “But, Billie,” he urged earnestly, “what can have occurred to make this sudden change in you?  Captain Le Gaire belongs to one of the most distinguished families of the South; is wealthy, educated, a polished gentleman.  He will give you everything to make life attractive.  Surely this is but a mere whim!”

“Have you found me to be a nervous girl, full of whims?”

“No, certainly not, but—­”

“And this is no whim, no mood.  I cannot tell, cannot explain all that has of late caused me to distrust Captain Le Gaire, only I do not feel toward him as I once did.  I never can again, and if you insist on this marriage, it will mean to me unhappiness—­I am, sure of that.”

“But what can we do at this late hour!  Everything is prepared, arranged for; even the minister has arrived, and is waiting.”

She stood before him, her hands clasped, trembling from head to foot, yet with eyes determined.

“Will you delay action a few moments, and send Captain Le Gaire to me?  I—­I must see him alone.”

He hesitated, avoiding her eyes and permitting his glance to wander about the room.

“Please do this for me.”

“But in your present mood—­”

“I am perfectly sane,” and she stood straight before him, insistent, resolute.  “Indeed I think I know myself better than for months past.  I shall say nothing wrong to Captain Le Gaire, and if he is a gentleman he will honor me more for my frankness.  Either you will send him here to me, or else I shall go to him.”