"The admiral kept his word, and interposed no difficulties between Kate and me. Not that, to tell the truth, I was ever very anxious about that rock ahead; but it was very possible that his fastidious honour or pride might have occasioned a considerable interference with our happiness for a time. As it turned out, he could not leave me Culverwood, and I regretted the fact as little as he did himself. His gratitude to me was, however, excessive, assuming occasionally ludicrous outbursts of thankfulness. I do not believe he could have been more grateful if I had saved his ship and its whole crew. For his hospitality was at stake. Kind old man!"
Here ended my father's story, with a light sigh, a gaze into the bright coals, a kiss of my mother's hand which he held in his, and another glass of Burgundy.
IF I HAD A FATHER.
A DRAMA.
ACT I.
SCENE.—A Sculptor's studio. ARTHUR GERVAISE working at a clay figure and humming a tune. A knock.
Ger. Come in. (Throws a wet cloth over the clay. Enter WARREN by the door communicating with the house.) Ah, Warren! How do you do?
War. How are you, Gervaise? I'm delighted to see you once more. I have but just heard of your return.
Ger. I've been home but a fortnight. I was just thinking of you.