A bitter anger had filled his heart from the moment he had learned how matters stood, and yet he was talking in such a bland, matter-of-fact, almost cheerful fashion that his own daughter was imposed upon, and began to grow comforted.  The mere fact that her father now knew of all her troubles, and was not disposed to take a very gloomy view of them, was of itself a great relief to her.  And she was greatly pleased, too, to hear her father talk in the same light and even friendly fashion of her husband.  She had dreaded the possible results of her writing home and relating what had occurred.  She knew the powerful passion of which this lonely old man was capable, and if he had come suddenly down South with a wild desire to revenge the wrongs of his daughter, what might not have happened?

Sheila sat down, and with averted eyes told her father the whole story, ingenuously making all possible excuses for her husband, and intimating strongly that the more she looked over the history of the past time the more she was convinced that she was herself to blame.  It was but natural that Mr. Lavender should like to live in the manner to which he had been accustomed.  She had tried to live that way too, and the failure to do so was surely her fault.  He had been very kind to her.  He was always buying her new dresses, jewelry, and what not, and was always pleased to take her to be amused anywhere.  All this she said, and a great deal more; and although Mr. Mackenzie did not believe the half of it, he did not say so.  “Ay, ay, Sheila,” he said, cheerfully; “but if everything was right like that, what for will you be here?”

“But everything was not right, papa,” the girl said, still with her eyes cast down.  “I could not live any longer like that, and I had to come away.  That is my fault, and I could not help it.  And there was a—­a misunderstanding between us about Mairi’s visit—­for I had said nothing about it—­and he was surprised—­and he had some friends coming to see us that day—­”

“Oh, well, there iss no great harm done—­none at all,” said her father lightly, and perhaps beginning to think that after all something was to be said for Lavender’s side of the question.  “And you will not suppose, Sheila, that I am coming to make any trouble by quarreling with any one.  There are some men—­oh yes, there are ferry many—­that would have no judgment at such a time, and they would think only about their daughter, and hef no regard for any one else, and they would only make effery one angrier than before.  But you will tell me, Sheila, where Mr. Lavender is.”

“I do not know,” she said.  “And I am anxious, papa, you should not go to see him.  I have asked you to promise that to please me.”

He hesitated.  There were not many things he could refuse his daughter, but he was not sure he ought to yield to her in this.  For were not these two a couple of foolish young things, who wanted an experienced and cool and shrewd person to come with a little dexterous management and arrange their affairs for them?