“I made one last, agonized appeal to Jeanette, but she kept her face averted and answered me nothing, and I, 89 stricken, bewildered, hardly knowing what I did, followed the servant to my father’s rooms.
“I found him pacing the room with an angry scowl upon his face and an air that augured ill for me. Far from being taken aback, I welcomed this attitude of my father. I felt, somehow, that he was to blame for the tears of my Jeanette. I could have fallen upon him, doing him bodily injury, so great and terrible was my anger. With an effort, I conquered this first mad impulse and waited, with hands so tightly clenched that the nails bit deep into the flesh.
“I had not long to wait. At the sound of the opening door my father whirled and, with an imperious gesture, ordered the servant to retire. When the door was closed behind the man, my father burst out, furiously, ‘So you have been deceiving me, lying to me in my own house. You need not start and look surprised, for what I have not seen with my own eyes has been faithfully retailed to me through one I can trust.’
“I fear I must have appeared stupid, for suddenly my brain refused to act naturally. How was it for my father to find out this—my so great secret? Surely, I had taken every precaution. But my father’s voice broke in rudely upon my bewilderment.
“‘Have you nothing to say?’ said he, furiously. ‘Must you stand there like a dog, a monkey, a piece of wood, and make no attempt to defend yourself? Ah, to have reared such a son?’
“Suddenly, in a flash, came my wits again. In an instant I had drawn myself to my full height and stood regarding calmly my enraged father. Ah, that I have not one kind thought—one gentle memory——” Again the stranger paused, and the girls felt the undernote of tragedy in his voice. Instinctively, Lucile glanced at her own father where he sat, knees crossed, cigar in hand, listening attentively, and her heart gave a great, warm throb as she whispered, “Dear old Dad!” 90
“Well,” said the Frenchman, with a shrug of his shoulders, “there is not much more to tell, though it may mean the wrecking of two lives, mine and that of Jeanette. My father and I had many words, calm on my part, enraged on his, and during the interview I learned that our great secret had been discovered by that old witch, the housekeeper, the week before, when Jeanette and I had had our never-to-be-forgotten conversation. For some unknown reason she had kept the discovery to herself till the day before.
“‘So you meant to marry Jeanette?’ my father flung at me.
“‘Oui, Monsieur, mon pere,’ I answered, still calmly, ‘and if Jeanette will do me the great honor to become my wife, I have not in the least altered my determination.’
“‘Ah!’ cried my father, stung by my calm. ‘But she will not have you—Jeanette. She has too much pride!’