"Why of course, papa?"
"Because he is a stranger and a foreigner. Would you have wished me to tell him that he might come?"
"Yes, papa." He was sitting on a sofa and shrank back a little from her as she made this free avowal. "In that case I could have judged for myself. I suppose every girl would like to do that."
"But should you have accepted him?"
"I think I should have consulted you before I did that. But I should have wished to accept him. Papa, I do love him. I have never said so before to any one. I would not say so to you now, if he had not—spoken to you as he has done."
"Emily, it must not be."
"Why not, papa? If you say it shall not be so, it shall not. I will do as you bid me." Then he put out his hand and caressed her, stroking down her hair. "But I think you ought to tell me why it must not be,—as I do love him."
"He is a foreigner."
"But is he? And why should not a foreigner be as good as an Englishman? His name is foreign, but he talks English and lives as an Englishman."
"He has no relatives, no family, no belongings. He is what we call an adventurer. Marriage, my dear, is a most serious thing."