Major Clifton remained in deep thought for awhile, and then taking the hand of the lady, said—
“My dear mother, the objections that I have advanced are those that have arisen in my mind, from time to time, giving me much pain. I wished to hold them up before myself, as I have just done, in order to see what they really consisted of, and looked like. I have seen the worst of them, and in their ugliest light, and they will not deter me from taking to my heart the girl I love. I have weighed them, and the whole mass is light in the balance with my need of Catherine. I will marry her. I will go and tell her so now. And the ceremony shall be performed whenever you think proper.”
“Whenever Kate thinks proper, my dear Archer,” replied the lady, smiling.
At this moment a servant entered and delivered a note to Major Clifton. It was from Mrs. Georgia, announcing her return to White Cliffs, and begging the company of Major Clifton to tea that evening.
CHAPTER XXX.
BETROTHAL.
Twas thy high purity of soul,
Thy thought revealing eye,
That conquered all my pride of heart,
Thou wanderer from the sky.—W. G. Clark.
Major Clifton held the note between his finger and thumb, in a fit of abstraction, while a pleasant, contemplative smile dwelt on his face.