"Look to her, Moor! have a good eye to see;
She has deceived her father, and may thee."
Perhaps as soon as he had said the bitter word Mr. Lyon was sorry, any how, the soft answer which followed it thrilled through every nerve of the strong willed man—a man not easily made angry, but when he was, very hard to move.
"Robert, will you listen to me for two minutes?"
"For as long as you like, only you must not expect me to agree with you. You can not suppose I shall say it is right for you to forsake me."
"I forsake you? Oh, Robert!"
Words are not always the wisest arguments. His "little woman" crept closer, and laid her head on his breast: he clasped convulsively.
"Oh, Hilary, how could you wound me so?"
And in lieu of the discussion, a long silence brooded over the fireside—the silence of exceeding love.
"Now, Robert, may I talk to you?"
"Yes. Preach away, my little conscience."