"I have told him all," replied Sir Harry West. "I judged it right to do so; and he thinks as I do, Ida, that such virtues, graces, and goodness, as you possess, form a better inheritance than stored-up gold, or even a noble name. The only question is, Ida, do you--can you love him?"
Ida paused; and Sir Harry felt her hand, which he had taken, tremble violently.
"No," she said, at length; "no, I cannot."
"But why," asked the old Knight. "He is handsome in person, gentle and kind in demeanour."
She shook her head sorrowfully. "I cannot love him," she answered. "You will think me wrong, I fear, Sir Harry, to wish rather to remain dependent on your bounty, than change it for any other fate on earth."
"I do not think you wrong, my dear child," replied Sir Harry; "all I have is yours; for to you I owe whatever remains to me of life. But you must give me a decided answer; for I must deal plainly with this gentleman."
"My answer is plain, my benefactor," replied Ida. "I cannot love him--I cannot wed him."
"Good faith, then, dear Ida," said the old Knight, with a smile, "if you will not wed any one else, I shall be fain to marry you myself."
"What is that you said!" exclaimed Ida, with the light coming into her eyes. "What is that you said?"
"I was but jesting, Ida," answered the Knight; and immediately the blood rushed up into her cheek, and spread rosy over her forehead. "I was but jesting," repeated Sir Harry West; but Ida was very much agitated, and thinking he had pained her, he added, "I am well aware, my dear child, that however great may be the comfort and happiness to me, to have you with me during my latter years--however deeply and tenderly I may love you, I must not, and ought not, to desire that you should sacrifice all for me."