‘Believe me to be sincerely yours,
‘JASPER MILVAIN.’
Half an hour after reading this Yule was roused from a fit of the gloomiest brooding by Marian’s entrance. She came towards him timidly, with pale countenance. He had glanced round to see who it was, but at once turned his head again.
‘Will you forgive me for keeping this secret from you, father?’
‘Forgive you?’ he replied in a hard, deliberate voice. ‘I assure you it is a matter of perfect indifference to me. You are long since of age, and I have no power whatever to prevent your falling a victim to any schemer who takes your fancy. It would be folly in me to discuss the question. I recognise your right to have as many secrets as may seem good to you. To talk of forgiveness is the merest affectation.’
‘No, I spoke sincerely. If it had seemed possible I should gladly have let you know about this from the first. That would have been natural and right. But you know what prevented me.’
‘I do. I will try to hope that even a sense of shame had something to do with it.’
‘That had nothing to do with it,’ said Marian, coldly. ‘I have never had reason to feel ashamed.’
‘Be it so. I trust you may never have reason to feel repentance. May I ask when you propose to be married?’
‘I don’t know when it will take place.’