"I have hurt you. Forgive me."
She placed her hand on his. He observed that it was as cold as ice. "While it is true that we have denied him, my dear David, nevertheless we do belong to him. She is his daughter. That is what I am trying to make plain to you."
"If she chooses to call herself his daughter, I am perfectly content to call myself his son."
"I wanted to hear you say that, David. You must take her as Thomas Braddock's daughter, quite as much as you do as Albert Portman's granddaughter."
"I am not deceiving myself," he said with a smile.
"Then I am ready to give my consent to an immediate marriage," she said. For the first time since their interview began she spoke hurriedly. A feverish light came into her eyes, burning bright and dry.
He sprang to his feet, triumphant. "Come with me to her! She will name the day if you—"
"I shall name the day, David," she said evenly. "It must be to-night,—this very night,—before her father goes away."
"Are you in earnest?" he cried, scarcely believing that he heard aright.
"She loves you with all her soul, and you love her. You are her protector, the stone wall between her and all the unkind things of life. She needs you now. Tomorrow may bring the hour of trial. It is best that she should have you to lean upon. It must be to-night. Come; we will go to her. It is nearly three o'clock. There is much to be done between now and the time that your train starts for Richmond. I want her to be in Jenison Hall to-morrow."