"Yes, and for years I have tried to recover it."
"That I am glad to learn, and I hope you have succeeded; but—"
"And will you not aid me?"
"In my sight you can never appear an honest man."
At this reproach, Roland, who had sat like Abjection, one hand supporting his head, his eyes lowered and his body bent, sprang to his feet.
"There are several forms of honesty," he exclaimed, "and frankness I believe is counted among them. That you evidently possess. Let me emulate you in it. I intend that your daughter shall be my wife. If you don't care to come to the wedding your presence can be dispensed with." And without any show of anger, but with an inclination of the head that was insolent in its deference, he picked up his hat and left the room.
Presently he found himself in the street. "Who is ever as stupid as a wise man?" he queried, and laughed a little to himself—"unless"—and he fell to wondering whether Dunellen could have told his daughter all. On the corner a cab was loitering; he hailed and entered it. A little later he was ringing at the door of Honest Paul's abode.
Yes, Miss Dunellen was at home. And as the servant drew the portière to the drawing-room aside, Roland was visited by that emotion the gambler knows who waits the turning of a card. Another second, and the expression of the girl's face would tell him what the future held. The drawing-room, however, happened to be untenanted, and as he paced its spacious splendors he still wondered was she or was she not informed. In a corner was a landscape signed Courbet—a green ravine shut down by bluest sky. The coloring was so true, it jarred. In another was a statue—a cloaked and hooded figure of Death supporting a naked girl. As he contemplated it, he heard the tinkle of the portière rings. It was she, he knew; he turned, and at once his heart gave an exultant throb; in her eyes was an invitation; he put his arms about her, and for a moment held her so.
She does not know, he told himself, and to her he murmured, "I have come to say good-bye."
"Wait, Roland." She led him to a seat. "Wait; I spoke to father last night; he has some objection—"