“Very well. Then I may as well tell you that it is all nonsense.”
“I am not sure that it is all nonsense,” she answered, in the same restrained voice; “but whether it is nonsense or no, it has nothing to do with me.”
“Nothing to do with you, Emma! Do you mean that? Listen, my love: these are delicate matters, but if any one may speak to a woman about them, her father may. Do you remember that nearly two years ago, when you were more intimate and open with me than you are now, Emma, you told me that Henry Graves had—well, taken your fancy?”
“I remember. I told you because I did not think it likely that I should meet him again, and because you said something to me about marrying, and I wished to put a stop to the idea.”
“Yes, I quite understand; but I gathered from what took place the other day, when poor Graves was so ill, that you still entertain an affection for him.”
“Oh! pray do not speak of that,” she murmured: “I cannot bear it even from you; it covers me with shame. I was mad, and you should have paid no attention to it.”
“I am sorry to give you pain or to press you, Emma, but I should be deeply grateful if you would make matters a little clearer. Never mind about Henry Graves and his attitude towards you: I want to understand yours towards him. As you know, or if you do not know I beg you to believe it, your happiness is the chief object of my life, and to secure that happiness to you I have planned and striven for years. What I wish to learn now is: do you desire to have done with Henry Graves? If so, tell me at once. It will be a great blow to me, for he is the man of all others to whom, for many reasons, I should like to see you married, and doubtless if matters are left alone he will marry you. But in this affair your wish is my law, and if you would prefer it I will wind up the mortgage business, cut the connection to-morrow, and then we can travel for a year in Egypt, or wherever you like. Sometimes I think that this would be the best course. But it is for you to choose, not for me. You are a woman full grown, and must know your own mind. Now, Emma.”
“What do you mean by winding up the mortgage business, father?”
“Oh! the Graves’s owe us some fifty or sixty thousand pounds, and it is not a paying investment, that is all. But don’t you bother about that, Emma: confine yourself to the personal aspect of the question, please.”
“It is very hard to have to decide so quickly. Can I not give you an answer in a few days, father?”