“A heartless, abominable creature,” replied Grace, as glibly as if she was repeating some familiar catechism.

“Would you like to be called one?”

“Oh, papa!”

“Is there nobody who has the right to apply the term to you?”

“I hope not.” (Red.)

“You encouraged Mr. Coventry’s addresses?”

“I am afraid I did not discourage them, as I wish I had.  It is so hard to foresee every thing.”

“Pray do you remember the fifth day of last December?”

“Can I ever forget it?” (Redder.)

“Is it true that Mr. Coventry proposed for you, that day?”

“Yes.”

“And you accepted him.”

“No; no.  Then he has told you so?  How ungenerous!  All I did was, I hesitated, and cried, and didn’t say ‘no,’ downright—­like a fool.  Oh, papa, have pity on me, and save me.”  And now she was pale.

Mr. Carden’s paternal heart was touched by this appeal, but he was determined to know the whole truth.  “You could love him, in time, I suppose?”

“Never.”

“Why?”

“Because—­”

“Now tell me the truth.  Have you another attachment?”

“Yes, dear papa.” (In a whisper and as red as fire.)

“Somebody of whom you are not proud.”

“I am proud of him.  He is Mr. Coventry’s superior.  He is everybody’s superior in everything in the world.”

“No, Grace, you can hardly be proud of your attachment; if you had been, you would not have hidden it all this time from your father.”  And Mr. Carden sighed.

Grace burst out crying, and flung herself on her knees and clung, sobbing, to him.

“There, there,” said he, “I don’t want to reproach you; but to advise you.”

“Oh, papa!  Take and kill me.  Do:  I want to die.”

“Foolish child!  Be calm now; and let us talk sense.”

At this moment there was a peculiar ring at the door, a ring not violent, but vigorous.

Grace started and looked terrified:  “Papa!” said she, “say what you like to me, but do not affront him; for you might just as well take that knife and stab your daughter to the heart.  I love him so.  Have pity on me.”

The servant announced “Mr. Little!”

Grace started up, and stood with her hand gripping the chair; her cheek was pale, and her eyes glittered; she looked wild, and evidently strained up to defend her lover.

All this did not escape Mr. Carden.  He said gently, “Show him into the library.”  Then to Grace as soon as the servant had retired, “Come here, my child.”

She knelt at his knees again, and turned her imploring, streaming eyes up to him.

“Is it really so serious as all this?”

“Papa, words cannot tell you how I love.  But if you affront him, and he leaves me, you will see how I love him; you will know, by my grave-side, how I love him.”

“Then I suppose I must swallow my disappointment how I can.”