Judith sat in her father’s study in the Walterton Road.
On the desk before her lay the letter which she had written and sealed to Mr. Lee-Harrison, containing her acceptance of his offer.
A certain relief had come with the deed. She had opened up for herself a new field of action; she would be reinstated in the eyes of her world, in Reuben’s eyes, in her own.
She was so strong, so cruelly vital that it never for an instant occurred to her that she might pine and fade under her misery. She would have laughed to scorn such a thought.
Not thus could she hope for escape. A new field of action—there lay her best chance.
Her father came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She lifted her mournful glance to his; the kind, vague regard was inexpressibly soothing after the battery of eyes to which she had been recently exposed.
“I hope, my dear,” said Joshua Quixano, “that you are quite happy in this engagement?”
“Oh, yes, papa,” answered Judith; but suddenly, as she spoke, the tears welled to her eyes and poured down her face.
Such a display of feeling on her part was without precedent. Both father and daughter were exceedingly shy, though in neither case with that shyness which manifests itself in outward physical flutter.
Mr. Quixano, deeply moved, stretched out his arms, and putting them about her, drew her close against him.