"Left Paris this morning en route to New York.
FATHER."
A feeling of dread crept over her; the smile on her face gave way to a hardness of expression. Gone was the joy, the happiness, in the girl's face, and in its place was doubt, apprehension, anxiety.
Von Barwig looked at her; the keen eye of love quickly detected the presence of fear. He did not speak, but his look demanded an answer to its question.
"My father is coming home," she said, forcing herself to smile.
"Ah? So? I shall be glad to meet him," said Von Barwig.
Chapter Nineteen
Henry Stanton's return to New York was not marked by any special outburst of joy on the part of the large retinue of dependents that constituted the machinery of his household. He was feared rather than loved by his servants, and this feeling, as has been indicated, was shared by his daughter in common with others. It was not that he did not want to be loved, or that he was indifferent to the feelings and opinion of others concerning him. On the contrary, he, of all men, was most anxious that others should think well of him. But his manner was stern, harsh and repellent, and he did not seem to have the capacity to gain the confidence or sympathy of those around him. Although generous even to extravagance where it gratified his vanity, of broad-minded charity in its higher and nobler sense the man knew nothing. He gave not because he loved, but because his charities reflected lustre on his name; and here was the man's most vulnerable point, his sensitiveness as to name, fame, honour, reputation dignity, public opinion. "What will the world think?" stood out in blazing letters on a glittering signpost pointing to the motive of all he did. And so when Mr. Stanton told his daughter, the day after his arrival, that he approved of her engagement to Beverly Cruger and that it gave him great happiness, the utter absence of genuine fatherly tenderness in his manner showed the girl plainly that his happiness was brought about mainly by the fact that it advanced him several rungs in the social ladder, and not because she was going to marry a man who would make her happy.
"He is a splendid catch," were Mr. Stanton's words on first hearing the news. "He belongs to a fine solid family and you will have entrée into the first establishments in America and Europe."
Hélène was instinctively repelled by the manner of his congratulations. Not one solitary word was uttered as to love, happiness, or the sacred nature of marriage itself, not a regret at parting with her; nothing but an adding up of the advantages that would accrue to him from a social point of view.