Both gentlemen turned in surprise, for the girl spoke with feeling and fire. John Thurley looked hurt and angry, her father only amused.
“What do you know about the young rascal’s sentiments?” asked the latter.
“I only know what he told me,” she answered simply, with a blush.
There was a pause in the talk for a few minutes. Then Captain Mulgrave said:
“We might go over to the farm this afternoon, and see the fellow.”
The other assented without alacrity. There was another person to be provided for, whose welfare interested him more than that of a hundred young men.
“What about your daughter?” he asked in a constrained voice.
“Oh, Freda’s going back to the convent. You have always wanted to, haven’t you, child?”
“Yes, father,” answered the girl, who had, however, suddenly fallen a-trembling at the suggestion.
“I—I could have provided for her better than that, if—if she had chosen,” said John Thurley, blushing as shyly as a girl, and finding a difficulty in getting his words out.