Before she had had her moment of speech with either, she heard her husband calling Gillian, and she knew that he was the one person with whom his daughter never hid her true self in petulance or sarcasm.  So Gillian met him in the General’s sitting-room, gasping as she turned the handle of the door.  He set a chair for her, and spoke gravely.

“My dear,” he said, “I find you have gained the heart of a good man.”

“I am sure I never meant it,” half whispered Gillian.

“What is that-—you never meant it?  I never supposed you capable of such an unladylike design.  You mean that you were taken by surprise?”

“No; I did see what he was at,” and she hung her head.

“You guessed his intentions?”

“Yes, papa; but I didn’t want-—”

“Try to explain yourself,” said Sir Jasper as she broke off.

“I—­I did wish to go on improving myself and being useful.  Surely it was not wrong, papa.  Don’t you see, I did not want to let myself be worried into letting myself go out, and spoiling all my happiness and improvement and work, and getting to care for somebody else?”

“But you have consented.”

“Well, when I was frightened for him I found I did care, and he got hold of me, and made me allow that I did; and now I suppose nobody will give me any peace.”

“Stay, Gillian-—keep yourself from this impatient mood.  I think I understand your unwillingness to overthrow old associations and admit a new overmastering feeling.”

“That’s just it, papa,” said Gillian, looking up.  “I can’t bear that overmastering feeling, nor the being told every one must come to it.  It seems such folly.”

“Folly that Eve was given to be a helpmeet, and as the bride, the Church to her Bridegroom?  Look high enough, Gillian, and the popular chatter will not confuse your mind.  You own that you really love him.”

“Oh, papa, not half so much as mamma, or Mysie, or Jasper, but-—but I think I might.”

“Is that all, Gillian?  No one would coerce you.  Shall I send him away, and tell him not to think of it?  Remember, it is a serious thing—-nay, an unworthy thing to trifle with a right-minded man.”

Gillian sat clasping the elbow of her chair, her dark eyes fixed.  At last she said—-

“Papa, I do feel a sort of trust in him, a sort of feeling as if my life and all goodness and all that would be safe with him; and I couldn’t bear him to go quite away and hear no more of him, only I do wish it wouldn’t happen now; and if there is a fuss about it, I shall get cross and savage, and be as nasty as possible, I know I shall.”

“You can’t exercise enough self-command to remember what is due-—I would say kind and considerate-—to a man who has loved you through all your petulance and discouragement, and now is going to a life not without peril for three years?  Suppose a mishap, Gillian-—how would you feel as to your treatment of him on this last evening?”