"Of course, of course," said old Mr. Winthrop.
Dawn's father bowed once more his assent. In his heart he heard again the words: "You have no right. You have no right!" Would the sin of his youth never be expiated by sorrow?
Mrs. Van Rensselaer arose.
"I will go up and talk with her," she said coolly, as though it were quite an ordinary matter under discussion.
"You will ask her to come down and let me talk to her?" asked Charles, following her into the hall. "I think perhaps I can make her see it better than any one else."
The woman looked him over, frowning. This ardent youth was going to be hard to control. She must be wary or he would upset all her plans, as well as his own.
"I will see what is best," she answered coldly. "Remember she has retired, and this will be a great shock to her. It would be better for you to give her a little time to recover and to think it over. Leave it to me. I will do my best for you."
She tried to smile, but conveyed rather an expression of arrogance than of anything else.
"Of course." The young man drew back thoughtfully. "Do not hurry her."
She passed up the stairs, and Charles wandered out the front door and into the moonlit garden. He stood and listened to the harmony of sound and looked up reverently toward a chamber window where glimmered a candle-light. He wondered if even now she was listening to his message, and his heart was lifted high with hope.