"Thank you, sir, I never touch it. Pray do not regard me; but go on with what you were about to say."
"I will then, Ishmael. And I hope you will forgive me if I speak very plainly."
"Speak then, sir; Bee's father has a holy right to speak plainly to Bee's betrothed," replied Ishmael, wondering what portentous communication these words prefaced.
"It is as Bee's father, and no less as your friend, Ishmael, that I do speak. Ishmael," continued Mr. Middleton solemnly, "we all knew your strong, your very strong attachment to Claudia Merlin before she became Lady Vincent—'
"Well, sir?" said the young man gravely.
"We all knew how nearly heart-broken you were for a considerable time after her marriage, and indeed until you found consolation and healing in the sympathy and affection of my daughter Beatrice."
"Yes, sir," said Ishmael, speaking low and bending his head.
"You possibly mistook this sisterly love of the companion of your childhood for that deeper love that should bind husband and wife together for time and for eternity. And you asked me to give you Bee, and I, rashly perhaps, consented—for who could foresee the end?"
Ishmael grew very pale, but compressed his lips, and governed his strong emotions.
Mr. Middleton continued: