“She must be brought back at once at all costs!” he exclaimed. “That rascal shall not outwit us. Fool that I was to trust him in the house! Tell the men to saddle the horses. They cannot have gone far yet, and there are not so many roads to Washington. We may yet overtake them, and married or unmarried the hussy shall be here for her wedding!”
But David raised his head from the mantel-shelf and steadied his voice:
“No, no, you must not do that—father—” the appellative came from his lips almost tenderly, as if he had long considered the use of it with pleasure, and now he spoke it as a tender bond meant to comfort.
The older man started and his face softened. A flash of understanding and love passed between the two men.
“Remember, she has said she loves some one else. She could never be mine now.”
There was terrible sadness in the words as David spoke them, and his voice broke. Madam Schuyler turned away and took out her handkerchief, an article of apparel for which she seldom had use except as it belonged to every well ordered toilet.
The father stood looking hopelessly at David and taking in the thought. Then he too bowed his head and groaned.
“And my daughter, my little Kate has done it!” Marcia covered her face with the curtains and her tears fell fast.
David went and stood beside the Squire and touched his arm.
“Don’t!” he said pleadingly. “You could not help it. It was not your fault. Do not take it so to heart!”