The kindly tone coming from her, to whom he had shown no mercy, went through that obdurate heart.
“No—no,” he faltered; “but the sight of your unhappiness—Let me go. I am a miserable man!”
And with this he actually burst out crying and ran past her.
Grace told her father, and asked him to find out what was the matter with Mr. Coventry.
Mr. Carden followed Coventry to the station, and Coventry, who had now recovered his self-possession and his cunning, told him that for some time Miss Carden had worn a cheerful air, which had given him hopes; but this morning, watching her from a bower in the garden, he had seen such misery in her face that it had quite upset him; and he was going away to try and recover that composure, without which he felt he would be no use to her in any way.
This tale Carden brought back to his daughter, and she was touched by it. “Poor Mr. Coventry!” said she. “Why does he waste so much love on me?”
Her father, finding her thus softened, pleaded hard for his friend, and reminded Grace that she had not used him well. She admitted that at once, and went so far as to say that she felt bound never to marry any one but Mr. Coventry, unless time should cure him, as she hoped it would, of his unfortunate attachment.
From this concession Mr. Carden urged her daily to another, viz., that Mr. Coventry might be permitted to try and win her affection.
Her answer was, “He had much better content himself with what I can and do give him—my esteem and gratitude and sincere pity.”
Mr. Carden, however, persisted, and the deep affection he had shown his daughter gave him great power. It was two against one; and the two prevailed.