"Well, it took me a long time to console myself with a little bundle of flesh like that. But as she grew up I found all my love returning, and then I had only one thing to live for—my daughter May. I loved her with a jealous love, and I guarded and watched over her as one might a precious jewel. She has had the best teachers. She can ride, drive, play on half-a-dozen instruments. Our one great joy and happiness was to be together, and I dreaded the day when her hand would be asked in marriage. We had never been separated, and when we started on our return journey from Melbourne, where we had been on a visit, I little thought what was before me." Here the heart-broken old man again broke down.
"Come, come, bear up, sir. Don't give way," said Hal, comforting him.
"My dear lad. I am a rich man, and would willingly lay down twenty thousand pounds to have my girl back in her old place beside me."
"And so you shall, sir," said Hal, reassuringly.
"How?" asked he.
"First tell me all that occurred after your arrival."
"Well I took good care that that scoundrel should not see her again after breakfast, and when we got ashore we drove in a closed carriage to the station, and came on here."
"Well, what then?"
"She became very sulky, would not talk, and shut herself up; neglected her pets, and all her favourite occupations; avoided me as much as she could. I tried to coax her. I tried everything I knew, but to no avail. She seemed to have forgotten me, and to think of no one but that fellow, and I have since found out that he followed her here and twice met her clandestinely."
"I can quite understand that. It's his infernal mesmeric business."