Throwing her large black cloak over the back of the seat, Mollie turned her great blue eyes toward her lover.
“Why must you seek me thus stealthily, Lester, you ask? You know.”
Her eyes dropped, and a shade of shame overspread her fair face.
“Yes, I know. For you have told me that your father has taken a dislike to me in particular, and against all army officers as suitors for your hand in general. But he can find no cause to be prejudiced against me—at least, none that I am aware of,” looking into her eyes inquiringly.
“No, Lester,” quickly returned the girl, “he can certainly find no stain upon your character, else his daughter would not have entered here to-night to meet you.” This with a proud knowledge that, wrong as she was in disobeying her father’s wishes, she was conscious of the nobleness of her lover’s character.
“’Tis the old story, Lester,” she continued, after a moment—“a father’s ambition. Papa is ambitious, but his ambition no longer centers in himself, but in his children. Reaching, as he has, to the highest position within the gift of the nation, he hopes to see his children, when he descends from his station, still moving onward and upward toward renown, popularity, and—and—O Lester, I hate to say it—wealth.”
She hung her head as if ashamed to confess that her father for a moment considered pecuniary matters in connection with the disposal of her hand.
Taking her hand in his, he calmly said:
“Mollie, I blame him not. ’Tis a father’s first duty to seek the welfare of his children. But, darling,” drawing her toward him, “though I have not wealth, yet have I my pay as a Captain in the army, a sum sufficient to enable me to provide a cozy, happy home for us. Do you not think it would be cozy and happy?” looking tenderly into her eyes, which had been raised and turned upon him as he spoke.