So far back in the past as her memory extended she saw him always considerate, gentle of manner, courteous to inferiors, deferential to women, unassuming, and exemplary of life. In very truth there was none other in the world like him. And when at last she entered his house she told herself she was safe, and when the door closed, that she was free.
She knew without inquiry where to find him, and hastened at once to the library, breathless when she reached his chair. He had been dozing over a book, but at the rustle of her gown, he started and rubbed his eyes.
"It's good of you to come," he said, by way of greeting. "Why, Eden, I haven't seen you for two days. Sit down there and let me look at you. It's odd; I was going to you after the funeral. You know about General Meredith, don't you? He went off like that. He is to be buried this afternoon."
Mr. Menemon stood up and hunted for a match with which to light a lamp. "Yes," he continued, "he was only ill for twenty-four hours. Think of that, now! To tell you the truth, I haven't been very bright myself. I wanted to speak to you about it. All last winter I was more or less under the weather, and for some time I have been planning a trip abroad. Now that you have an establishment of your own, Eden, you won't want me." And as he said this, he smiled.
"Father, I have more need of you than ever."
"Yes," he answered, "I was jesting. I know you will miss me; but I will come back with the violets."
He had succeeded in lighting the lamp and, still smiling, he turned and looked at her. "The father-in-law element," he continued, and then stopped abruptly, amazed at the expression of his daughter's face. "What is it, Eden?" he asked at last.
"If you go abroad, I go with you."
For a moment he eyed her, as though seeking, untold, to divine the meaning of her words.
"Nothing has gone wrong, has it?" he asked.