"But I am going to tell you more, I am going to tell you this!" She caught his hand and held it. "It isn't what you have given and what you are giving us, it isn't money—oh you know that, don't you? I was wrong, wrong all the time! I know you better now and I like and respect you and I envy Allan his father—yes, envy him his father and so I have told him and—please kiss me because I am going to be your daughter, aren't I? And because I want you to like me and be my friend!"
"God bless me!" he said. "God bless my—oh, my lady, my, my dear—Kiss you? I'd be proud and happy!"
She laughed a little, she held up her face, there were tears on her lashes. "Then kiss me, Allan's father!" she said.
My Lord had counted on an expensive and fashionable wedding, even more than Sir Josiah had. He had specially ordered a frock coat of a peculiar and delicate shade of grey, which would become him handsomely. That he would easily outshine everyone present he knew with certainty. He would give his daughter away, everyone would remark on his appearance, the exquisite sensibility that would mark his every action. They would not compare him with the Baronet, it was no question of comparison. People would see with their own eyes how immeasurably superior he was to Sir Josiah.
That the limelight would be mainly on himself, His Lordship had decided. He had even rehearsed the part he would play. He would be the tender, loving father, heart-broken and bereaved at losing his darling child, and yet he would bear up bravely, carry himself proudly, with a touch of tender gaiety. His speech at the reception he had written and re-written—and now he was in a furious passion, shaking with rage, he sought out Kathleen and swore viciously at her.
"What devil's tomfoolery is this?" he shouted. "What new pose have we here? What's this confounded rotten, absurd business about, a twopenny ha'penny housemaid's wedding, hey? Haven't I asked, unofficially of course, but asked all the same a hundred people? Haven't Bellendon and the Cathcarts and—and George Royhills and his wife practically delayed their departure from Town for this wedding, and now—now what rotten nonsense have you got in your head now, hey?"
She eyed him steadily. "Please don't swear at me, father?" she said. "There is no need. I asked Allan——"
"Asked Allan, hang and confound Allan! Ain't I anyone? Don't I count? I'm only your father! Haven't I planned this for you, haven't I cherished the idea of making you a rich woman, haven't I——?" He paused, floundering wildly in his fury.
"I asked Allan to humor me, I wanted a very quiet wedding, he was quite willing, as eager as I almost. He spoke to his father and his father has agreed——"
"His father! that confounded old City shark, that common, vulgar old brute, who—who——"