In the course of a somewhat diversified experience Brant had been constrained to fight his way through a few measurably perilous passages, and in such crises those who liked him least were fain to concede his courage. None the less, when the day of liberation darkened to its evening he went leaden-footed to the interview with Dorothy’s mother.
Now Hobart, in the goodness of his heart, had caused it to be whispered about that Brant would probably make his farewell call that evening, and for this reason it was Dorothy, and no hireling, who answered the bell.
Whatever may be said of Brant (and his most loyal apologist is fain to admit that his shortcomings were many and variegated), he was no laggard in love; and when he made sure of the identity of his unexpected welcomer, Dorothy had no cause to doubt the warmth of his passion. Nevertheless, she blushed and struggled a little—as what modest young woman, however affectionate, would not in a well-lighted reception hall which was a thoroughfare for the entire household? And so, mutely protesting, she drew him quickly into the library.
“Only a moment with you, my love,” he said tenderly; “just long enough to hear you say it again. Are you quite sure you love me?”
She hid her face on his arm—she was not tall enough to reach his shoulder. “I—I’d be ashamed to tell you how long I have been sure of it,” she confessed with sweet naïveté.
Whereat he kissed the parting of her hair.
“Thank you for that word, my darling. It would hold a worse man than I ever dared to be true to his purpose. Now there is but one thing more: we must have your mother’s consent and approval. Will you go and send her to me?”
But Dorothy hesitated, as well she might.
“If you are sure you must speak to her now,” she ventured to say. “But, oh, I am afraid——”
At that he drew her closer, and for some ecstatic moment the hard thing that remained became as naught. “The day of fear and trembling is past, little one, and whatever befalls, whatever your mother may say, we shall still belong to each other. And I will wait and serve for you, my love, as Jacob served for Rachel, if need be. Now kiss me good-bye, dear, and go—before the love of you unmans me.”