“Yes. We can go back to Woodsome.”
“But even that will not be sufficient, sir.”
“Do you think I am unaware of my duty, Harry? If Mr. Van Hoosen is willing to devote his life to watching and guarding Rose, what am I capable of? I, her father! I will leave my studies; I will put every thought out of mind but Rose. The Saviour who went out into the wilderness after the stray lamb shall be my example. All the other ninety-and-nine interests of life shall be forgotten, if so I may accomplish this one.” He rose as he said the words, and stooping to the table, swept the slips of paper into an open drawer; and his face, though solemn, was full of light and purpose.
“We should have spoken plainly to each other before this hour, Harry,” he said, “and you were wrong not to have come to me before. A matter of such vital importance ought not to have been trusted to the peradventures and influences of society. We ought to have looked the danger in the face; we ought to have acknowledged it to each other, and never suffered the possibility of such a sorrow and shame to have become even a probable event.”
“My dear father, it is not surely too late. I will help you in any way I can.” And then Mr. Filmer’s eyes met his son’s eyes, and, oh, how well they understood each other!
“And the way being the way of duty, Harry,” he answered, “we shall not miss it; for duty is the commandment exceeding broad.”
At this point Mrs. Filmer entered, and Harry, after placing her in a chair, left the room. For a few minutes she sat quiet, looking into the fire with that apathetic stare which follows exhausted feeling.
Then Mr. Filmer put his chair beside hers, and taking her hand, said:
“My dear Emma, we must bear and fight this trouble together. Harry has told me all. And I do think, if Mr. Van Hoosen will marry Rose, it is the very best thing for the dear girl. He will take her to Europe, into entirely fresh scenes,—and marriage buries so many imperfections and offences.”