"It was wrong, father," said Kingsley, with contrition. "I have only the excuse to make that I loved her and was eager to defend her reputation."
"It is an excuse I cannot accept. And the deliberate committal of a fault so fatally grave as this, with a full knowledge of the consequences, cannot be condoned by the weak confession, when it is too late to repair the fault, that you were wrong. There is a repentance which comes too late, Kingsley. But even that I might have forgiven had I reason to approve of your choice."
"You have but to see her, father," said Kingsley, eagerly. "Let me bring her to you! You will be as proud of her as I am; you will know then that I have not chosen unworthily."
"No," said Mr. Manners, "if I see her at all I must see her alone."
"Give me a minute or two to consider, father."
"Certainly, Kingsley."
The young man turned aside, and allowed his thoughts to travel to Nansie, and to dwell upon the beauty of her character. He knew her to be patient and long-suffering, and that she would not shrink from making a sacrifice for one she loved as she loved him; he knew also that these qualities were allied to a spirit of independence which, while it would enable her to bear up outwardly under the pressure of a great wrong, would rather intensify than abate the anguish which would wring her soul were such a wrong forced upon her. It would be a lifelong anguish, and would rack her till her dying day. His father, with his iron will, was just the man to force the sacrifice upon her, was just the man to so prevail upon her that she might, at his persuasion, remove herself forever not only from the presence but from the knowledge of the man she loved and had vowed to love while life remained. Poor, helpless, dependent, and alone in the world--for Kingsley had an inward conviction that her father's days were numbered--to what a future would he, the man who had sworn to love and cherish her, be condemning her if he permitted his father to have his way in this matter! The crime would be his, not his father's; upon his soul would rest the sin. And then the image of Nansie rose before him, not at first sad and despondent, but bright and sweet, and full of innocent, joyous life; and in that image he saw a sunshine of happiness which he and Nansie would enjoy together if he played a true man's part in this contention. He saw also with his mind's eye the other side of the picture in the figure of a heart-broken woman brooding over the misery and the torture of life, and praying for death. This sad figure vanished, and he and Nansie were sitting together hand in hand, their hearts beating with the sacred love which sweetens and makes life holy, and she was whispering to him that her greatest joy lay in the knowledge that he was true to her.
He had shaded his eyes with his hand during this contemplation. He now removed it, and raised his eyes to his father's face.
"I cannot consent, father," he said, in a low, firm tone, "to your seeing her alone."
"You have come deliberately to that determination?" asked Mr. Manners.