“Foolish child! Be calm now; and let us talk sense.”
At this moment there was a peculiar ring at the door, a ring not violent, but vigorous.
Grace started and looked terrified: “Papa!” said she, “say what you like to me, but do not affront HIM; for you might just as well take that knife and stab your daughter to the heart. I love him so. Have pity on me.”
The servant announced “Mr. Little!”
Grace started up, and stood with her hand gripping the chair; her cheek was pale, and her eyes glittered; she looked wild, and evidently strained up to defend her lover.
All this did not escape Mr. Carden. He said gently, “Show him into the library.” Then to Grace as soon as the servant had retired, “Come here, my child.”
She knelt at his knees again, and turned her imploring, streaming eyes up to him.
“Is it really so serious as all this?”
“Papa, words cannot tell you how I love. But if you affront him, and he leaves me, you will see how I love him; you will know, by my grave-side, how I love him.”
“Then I suppose I must swallow my disappointment how I can.”