"Mr. Houghton, I owe to you her life which I value more than my own. You know we are lacking in everything except pride and good name."
"My dear sir," interrupted George earnestly, "God has endowed your daughter as man could not. You know I love and honor her for herself and always shall."
"You are right," said the father proudly, "and you are so truly a man, as well as a gentleman, that you estimate my penniless daughter at her intrinsic worth. As far as my approval and good wishes are concerned you have them."
Ella thought that George's face was wonderfully radiant when he appeared. As soon as she could get a word alone with her father, she asked, "What have you been saying to Mr. Houghton?"
"I have only answered his second request that he might pay you his addresses."
"Oh, papa! what a tantalizing answer! What did he say, and what did you say, word for word? Surely you didn't tell—"
"I only gave my consent, not yours. You are at perfect liberty to reject him," was the smiling reply.
"That is well as far as it goes, but I wish to know every word."
Her father's heart was too heavy to permit continuance in a playful vein, and he told her substantially what had been said. "Well," she concluded, with a complacent little nod, "I think I'll let him pay his addresses a while longer. The absurd fellow to go and idealize me so! Time will cure such folly, however. Papa, there's something troubling you besides the earthquake."
"Yes, Ella, and you must help me—you and Cousin Sophy." Then he told her how he thought matters stood between Mara and Clancy, checked her first indignant words, explained and insisted until she promised that she and Mrs. Bodine would shield Mara, and act as if she were as free as she had ever been. "It will all come about yet, papa," Ella whispered, "for Mr. Clancy has evidently committed himself to Miss Ainsley, although now I reckon he regrets it."