“No, no. What I give is to make you loved and venerated by the poor people who are sometimes in distress.”
“Now I don’t want a lecture on the relief of the poor, my dear,” said Gartram quickly. “I want you to quietly accept my wishes. I am your father, and I know what is for your good.”
Claude was silent, for she knew by familiar signs that the tempest was about to burst.
“Do you think I wish you to marry some penniless scoundrel, who wants to get my money to make ducks and drakes with it? There: I was getting cross, but I am not going to be. Once more, there is no hurry. Thaw by degrees. It will prove Glyddyr to you, and let you see that the poor fellow is thoroughly sincere. Come, my pet, we understand each other now? Hang it all, Claude, don’t look at me like that!”
“My dearest father,” she cried, after a moment’s hesitation, and she threw herself upon his breast and nestled to him, “are you not making a mistake?”
“No; I am too much of a business man, my dear. I am not making a mistake, unless it is in being too easy with you, and pleading when I might command. There, I’m glad you agree with me.”
“No, no, papa; I cannot,” she said tearfully.
“Now, Claude, my darling, don’t make me angry. You know what my health is, and how, if I am crossed, it irritates me. You are my obedient child, and you agree with what I say?”
“No, papa,” she said imploringly; “I cannot.”
“Then you are thinking still of that beggarly, fortune-hunting scoundrel Lisle?”