'It was at my invitation that he wrote, father.'
Martin's face expressed grave concern.
'Sidwell! Is this right?'
She was very pale, and kept her eyes unmovingly directed just aside from her father.
'What can it mean?' Mr. Warricombe pursued, with sad remonstrance. 'Will you not take me into your confidence, Sidwell?'
'I can't speak of it,' she replied, with sudden determination. 'Least of all with you, father.'
'Least of all?—I thought we were very near to each other.'
'For that very reason, I can't speak to you of this. I must be left free! I am going away with Sylvia, for a year, and for so long I must be absolutely independent. Father, I entreat you not to'——
A sob checked her. She turned away, and fought against the hysterical tendency; but it was too strong to be controlled. Her father approached, beseeching her to be more like herself. He held her in his arms, until tears had their free course, and a measure of calmness returned.
'I can't speak to you about it,' she repeated, her face hidden from him. 'I must write you a long letter, when I have gone. You shall know everything in that way.'