“And therefore you are very likely to know the truth of matters that are going on in the place?”
“Oh, yes, Mr Penwynn; but what do you mean?”
“Simply this, Miss Pavey. I am a father, and you are a woman of the world—a middle-aged lady to whom I may speak plainly.”
“Mr Penwynn?” cried the lady, rising.
“No, no, don’t rise, Miss Pavey, pray. This is a matter almost of life and death. It is a question of Rhoda’s happiness. I believe you love my child, and, therefore, at such a time, as I have no lady-friends to whom I could speak of such a thing, I speak to you, our old friend, and Rhoda’s confidante.”
“But, Mr Penwynn!” cried the lady, with flaming cheeks.
“This is no time, madam, for false sentiment. We are both middle-aged people, and I speak plainly.”
“Oh, Mr Penwynn!” cried the lady, indignantly.
“Tell me,” he said, sharply, “have you been making some communication to Rhoda?”
“Yes,” she said, in a whisper, and she turned away her face.