"Your father is never overpowered by his commotions, my love," said I.
"To forsake my happy home!" sobbed Mary Anne, as if her heart was breaking. "Oh, what an agony to think of!"
"To be sure it is," said K. I., in the same hard, husky voice; "but it's what we see done every day. Ask your mother—"
"Don't ask me to justify it," said I. "My experiences go all the other way."
"At any rate you ventured on the experiment," said he, with a grin. Then, turning to Mary Anne, he went on: "I see that James has informed you on this affair, and it only remains for me now to ask you what your sentiments are.
"Oh, my poor heart!" said she, pressing her hand to her side, "how can I divide its allegiance?"
"Don't try that, at all events," said he, "for though I never thought him a suitable match for you, my dear, if you really do feel an attachment to Peter Belton—"
"Of course I do not, papa."
"Of course she does not—never did—never could," said I.
"So much the better," said he; "and now for this Baron von—I never can remember his name—do you think you could be happy with him? Or do you know enough of his temper, tastes, and disposition to answer that question?"