"I do not think that you have known it. Nay, darling, I have hardly known it myself. All other anxieties have ceased with me now that I have come to know what it really is to be anxious for you. Do you think that I would not abandon any consideration as to wealth or family for your happiness? It has come to that with me, Emily, that they are nothing to me now;—nothing. You are everything."
"Dear Papa!" And now once again she leant upon his shoulder.
"When I tell you of the young man's life, you will not listen to me. You regard it simply as groundless opposition."
"No, Papa; not groundless,—only useless."
"But am I not bound to see that my girl be not united to a man who would disgrace her, misuse her, drag her into the dirt,"—that idea of dragging George out was strong in Emily's mind as she listened to this,—"make her wretched and contemptible, and degrade her? Surely this is a father's duty; and my child should not turn from me, and almost refuse to speak to me, because I do it as best I can!"
"I do not turn from you, Papa."
"Has my darling been to me as she used to be?"
"Look here, Papa; you know what it is I have promised you."
"I do, dearest."
"I will keep my promise. I will never marry him till you consent. Even though I were to see him every day for ten years, I would not do so when I had given my word."