"Why do you go earlier than usual, papa?" Emily asked him afterwards.
"Because I think it best," he replied angrily. She ought at any rate to understand the reason.
"Of course I shall be ready, papa. You know that I always like Wharton. There is no place on earth I like so much, and this year it will be especially pleasant to me to go out of town. But—"
"But what?"
"I can't bear to think that I shall be taking you away."
"I've got to bear worse things than that, my dear."
"Oh, papa, do not speak to me like that! Of course I know what you mean. There is no real reason for your going. If you wish it I will promise you that I will not see him." He only shook his head,—meaning to imply that a promise which could go no farther than that would not make him happy. "It will be just the same, papa,—either here, or at Wharton, or elsewhere. You need not be afraid of me."
"I am not afraid of you;—but I am afraid for you. I fear for your happiness,—and for my own."
"So do I, papa. But what can be done? I suppose sometimes people must be unhappy. I can't change myself, and I can't change you. I find myself to be as much bound to Mr. Lopez as though I were his wife."
"No, no! you shouldn't say so. You've no right to say so."