“What is the matter with you to-day, papa, dear?” she inquired, uneasily regarding him.
“Why do you ask? Because I quote old poetry? My dear, it is to convince you that I am in excellent humor with all the world, and that you have no cause to complain of me. I do not intend to enact the rôle of a ‘cruel parent,’ in order to make you a persecuted heroine. I do not even intend to reproach you with your inconstancy!—though I do hope it is not going to be a chronic complaint!—because it would be embarrassing, for instance, if while we were in the midst of the preparations for your wedding with Anglesea, young Herriott, the new minister, were to come and beg my indulgence to explain to me how you never really cared for the colonel, but found your salvation depend on your union with him—Herriott! And by the time we have adapted ourselves to the new situation, young Dr. Ingle should solicit a private interview and inform me that you——”
“Oh, papa! don’t! don’t!” exclaimed the girl, almost surprised into a smile.
“Well, I will ‘don’t,’ until we get down this hill, which is rather rugged!” said Mr. Force, as he passed his daughter, and went before her down the declivity, clearing away the branches of tall bushes that crowded and obstructed the narrow path.
When they reached the foot of the hill he once more gave her his arm, and they walked along the sands toward the north—Mr. Force purposely taking that direction, because it was the opposite one from that which led toward Greenbushes.
“Now, my darling,” he continued, “laying all jokes aside, I wished to talk to you to-day, to assure you that you need not distress yourself, either about my fancied disappointment or about Le’s fancied despair, when he shall hear of your change of mind.”
“Papa——”
“Hear me out, my darling! Hi! look at that rise of blue necks! If Anglesea were only here with his gun and dogs! He is a famous shot, my dear! Where was I? Oh! I say, as for myself, I am quite satisfied to receive Anglesea as my son-in-law. He is of noble race—there is a marquisate in the family, though too far removed to do him much good, except in the honor of the connection. He is of moderate fortune, very moderate; but wealth should not be the first consideration, you know! He is a fine, noble, generous, chivalrous fellow, and I like and admire him. And more than this—more than all else, he is my dear daughter’s choice, and as such I shall welcome him into the family circle.”
“Oh, papa, papa!” moaned Odalite, pierced through the heart by the thought of how little her father knew of the real character of the man, the real circumstances of the case, and how impossible it was for her to enlighten him.
“Still so grave, my little one? It is of Leonidas you are thinking! Do not fret your tender heart about him, my darling girl! If you, after three years separation from your boyish lover, have changed toward him—of which, in your secluded home, there was about one chance in a hundred of your doing—be sure that he, in his long absence from his childish sweetheart, on his long cruise around the world, has half forgotten the baby girl he left behind—as there must have been a hundred chances to one that he would. I think he will in time be able to console himself with your sister. It is all in the family, you know!” he said, looking down quizzically at the young face by his side.