"No; I had but one child, she who lies yonder."
"Psha! it is the same--you had a son-in-law—"
The old man looked up with apprehensive eagerness, and Alfred, who had hitherto been perfectly passive--having indeed for most of the time been engrossed in torturing himself about Christopher Sly and the Northumberland Plate--made a sudden movement forward. The old man laid his hand upon his grandson's arm, cautioning him to silence.
"The father of these young persons," continued the Reverend Emanuel Creamwell. "Where is he?"
"Alfred," exclaimed the old man, "take Lily away. It is too close for her here. I will join you presently outside."
Indeed, Lily was almost fainting. The long weary ride, the abstention from food for so many hours, and the sufferings she had experienced during the dialogue between her grandfather and the minister, had been too much for her strength. Seeing her weak state, Felix stepped forward to assist Alfred, and presently they were in the porch.
"Stay one moment, I pray," exclaimed Felix hurriedly; "only a moment."
He darted into the house, and brought out a chair.
"There!" he said. "Let her sit here for a minute or two. It will do her good. The sun is the other side of us."
It is a fact that Felix, with quick instinct, had selected this place as being likely to revive the girl. They were out of the glare of the sun.