He looked down into her face and smiled and she, looking up into his, smiled, too.  But she shook her head, nevertheless.

“Yes, dear,” she said, “it would be wonderful.  But it’s too wonderful to be true, I’m afraid.”

“Why?  Nonsense!  Of course it can be true.  And it’s going to be, too, in six months, perhaps sooner.”

But still she shook her head.

“It can’t be, Nelson,” she said, sadly.  “Don’t you see it can’t?  There is father.”

“Your father will be all right.  That’s one of the good things about this new job of mine.  You will be only a little way from him.  He’ll be here at the light, with Zach to look after him, and you can come over every few days to make sure things are going as they should.  Why—­”

She touched his lips with her fingers.

“Don’t, dear,” she begged.  “You know you’re only talking just because it is nice to make-believe.  I like to hear you, too; but what is the use when it’s only make-believe?  You know what father’s health really is; you know how nervous he is.  Doctor Powers told me he must not be overexcited or—­or dreadful things might happen.  You saw him at that horrid seance thing.”

He shrugged.  “If I didn’t see I heard,” he admitted.

“Yes, you heard.  And you know how near—­ Now suppose I should tell him that you and I intended getting married and going to Trumet to live; what do you think would happen?”

“But, look here, Lulie:  You’ve got to tell him some time, because we are going to be married, you know.”

“Are we?  Yes, I—­I hope we are.  But, oh, Nelson, sometimes I get almost discouraged.  I can’t leave him in that way, you know that.  And, in a sense, I don’t want to leave him, because he is my father and I love him.”

“But, confound it, you love me, too, don’t you?”

“You know I do.  But—­but—­oh, dear!  What can I do?”

He did not answer at once.  After a moment he said, rebelliously:  “You have got your own life to live.  Your father has lived the biggest part of his.  He hasn’t any right to prevent your being happy.  It would be different if he had any excuse for it, reasonable excuse.  I’m a—­well, I’m not a thief—­or a fool, quite, I hope.  I can provide for you comfortably and I’ll do my level best to be a good husband to you.  If there was any excuse for his hating me, any except that idiotic spirit craziness of his.  And what right has he to order you around?  A hundred years or so ago fathers used to order their sons and daughters to marry this one or the other, and if they didn’t mind they disinherited ’em, or threw ’em out of doors, or some such stuff.  At least, that’s the way it worked, according to the books and plays.  But that doesn’t go nowadays.  What right has he—­”

But again she touched his lips.

“Don’t, Nelson, please,” she said, gently.  “Rights haven’t anything to do with it, of course.  You know they haven’t, don’t you?  You know it’s just—­just that things are as they are and that’s all.  If father was as he used to be, his real self, and he behaved toward you as he is doing, I shouldn’t hesitate at all.  I should marry you and feel I was doing exactly right.  But now—­”