'Yes, I found my father was bent on it.'
'That was clear enough,' said his aunt, laughing, but resuming a tone of some perplexity. 'Yet it takes me by surprise: I had not guessed that you were so much attracted.'
'I do like her better than any one. No one is so thoroughly good, no one is likely to make me so good, nor my father so happy.'
There was some misgiving in Mrs. Frost's tone, as she said, 'Dear Louis, you are acting on the best of motives, but—'
'Don't, pray don't, Aunt Kitty,' cried Louis, rearing himself for an instant to look her in the face, but again throwing half his body over the rail, and speaking low. 'I could not meet any one half so good, or whom I know as well. I look up to her, and—yes—I do love her heartily—I would not have done it otherwise. I don't care for beauty and trash, and my father has set his heart on it.'
'Yes, but—' she hesitated. 'My dear, I don't think it safe to marry, because one's father has set his heart on it.'
'Indeed,' said Louis, straightening himself, 'I do think I am giving myself the best chance of being made rational and consistent. I never did so well as when I was under her.'
'N—n—no—but—'
'And think how my father will unbend in a homelike home, where all should be made up to him,' he continued, deep emotion swelling his voice.
'My dear boy! And you are sure of your own feeling?'