"Do not answer carelessly, child. I have a stake in this, perhaps as deep and as strong as yours."
"I do not answer carelessly, daddy. Your manner gives me such hope! I am so glad I have spoken to-night. The man she loves and who loves her, I am sure, is one to be honoured--a man worthy of any girl, worthy even of Lily."
"You asked me to give you my hand a little while ago, my dear. I give it to you now in the way that you wished."
There was something solemn in the manner in which he held out his hand to her; and something altogether so new and earnest in him, that it stirred her to deeper feeling, as his hand closed over hers.
"Now for Alfred," he said; "do you know if he bets in his own name?"
"He has never told me."
"You have some letters of his?"
"Yes, daddy."
"It is time for you to go to bed, my dear. I want to see Alfred's writing. I will come up with you, and you will give me one or two of his letters. Trust me, child, I have a good reason for what I am doing. So now, kiss me, and let us go upstairs."
He kissed her at her bedroom door again, when she gave him the letters.