It was now dark, or nearly so, and leaving the confidential porter, as usual, to shut up the house, I went up to the sitting-room with the expectation of seeing Miss Trevannion, and bidding her farewell. I was not disappointed; I found her at her netting, having just lighted the lamp which hung over the table.
“Miss Trevannion,” said I, advancing respectfully towards her, “I have fulfilled my promise, and I have received my reward,”—she looked up at me—“which is, I am dismissed from this house and your presence for ever.”
“I trust,” said she, after a pause, “that you have not exceeded my wishes. It appears to me so strange, that I must think that such is the case. My father never could have dismissed you in this way for merely expressing an opinion, Mr Elrington. You must have gone too far.”
“Miss Trevannion, when you meet your father, you can then ascertain whether I have been guilty of intemperance or rudeness, or a proper want of respect in making the communication,—which I did in exactly the manner you yourself proposed, and my reward has been such as I state.”
“You have a better reward, Mr Elrington, if what you assert is really correct; you have the reward of having done your duty; but I cannot imagine that your dismissal has arisen from the mere expression of an opinion. You’ll excuse me, Mr Elrington, that, as a daughter, I cannot, in justice to a much-respected father, believe that such is the case.”
This was said in so cold a manner, that I was nettled to the highest degree. Miss Trevannion had promised me her gratitude, instead of which I felt that she was doubting my word, and, as it were, taking the side of her father against me. And this was the return from her. I could have upbraided her, and told her what I felt; namely, that she had taken advantage of my feelings towards her to make me a cat’s-paw to obtain her end with her father; and that now, having failed, I was left to my fate, without even commiseration; but she looked so calm, so grave, and so beautiful, that I could not do it. I commanded my wounded feelings, and replied:
“Since I have the misfortune to meet the displeasure of the daughter as well as of the father, Miss Trevannion, I have not another word to say, but farewell, and may you prosper.”
My voice faltered as I said the last words, and, bowing to her, I quitted the room. Miss Trevannion did not even say farewell to me, but I thought that her lips appeared to move, as quitting the room I took my last look upon her beautiful face. I shut the door after me, and, overpowered by my feelings, I sank upon a settee in the ante-room, in a state of giddy stupor. I know not how long I remained there, for my head turned and my senses reeled; but I was aroused from it by the heavy tread of Mr Trevannion, who came along the corridor without a light, and not perceiving me opened the door of the sitting-room where his daughter still remained. He threw the door to after he had entered, but it did not quite close, leaving a narrow stream of light through the ante-room.
“Father,” said Miss Trevannion in my hearing, “you look warm and excited.”
“I have reason so to be,” replied Mr Trevannion, abruptly.