“Mrs. Cowdrick and I have been much distressed because of her condition; but we should have been at a loss for a remedy if your note had not suggested one.”
“I have been equally unhappy myself,” said Mr. Weems. “I wrote because I could find relief for my feelings in no other manner.”
“Now that you are here,” continued Mr. Cowdrick, “we might as well have a complete understanding. Are you prepared to make a proposition of any kind?”
“I should like to offer a suggestion, if I dared.”
“You have my permission to speak freely; and I would add, in order to remove any misapprehension, that Leonie Cowdrick need not seek an alliance unless she chooses to do so, for her parents are well able to maintain her in luxury.”
“Well, Mr. Cowdrick,” replied Mr. Weems, “what I have to say is, that if Leonie can forgive and forget the past, it will give me the greatest happiness to renew my engagement with her, and to return to the conditions that existed before that miserable quarrel occurred. Do you think she will consent?”
“Under some pressure from me and from her mother, I think she will. For my part, I am willing to overlook what has happened, and to receive you once more into my family.”
Mr. Cowdrick extended his hand, and Mr. Weems shook it warmly.
“And now, Mr. Weems,” said Mr. Cowdrick, “there’s another matter, of which I wish to speak. I refer to your art. Pardon me for asking you, but although I shall make some provision for Leonie, you, of course, must do something also. What is the condition of your art—in a financial sense, I mean?”
“Well, business is a little dull just at this moment.”