DICK EXPLAINS TO DORA
Dora hardly knew how she reached home after her visit to Herresford. She had no recollection of anything seen by the way. Her senses swam in an ecstasy too great for words, too intense to allow of impressions from outside. Tears of joy obscured her vision. It was only when she arrived home, and saw her father, and recollected that he had deceived her wilfully, that she had room in her heart for anything but happiness.
The colonel was in the library, turning over the leaves of a house-agent’s catalogue—his favorite occupation at the present time: Ormsby had enlisted his help in search of a suitable home for his bride.
“Here’s a nice little place,” cried the colonel. “They give a picture of it. Why, girl, what a color you’ve got!”
“Yes, father, it’s happiness.”
“That’s right, my girl—that’s right. I’m glad you’re taking a sensible view of things. What did I tell you?” 263
“You told me an untruth, father. You told me that Dick was dead.”
Dora’s eyes flashed, and the colonel looked sheepish. He covered his embarrassment with anger.
“So, the young fool hasn’t taken my advice then? He wants to turn convict. Is that why you’re happy?—because a man who presumed to make love to you behind your father’s back has come home to get sent to the penitentiary, instead of remaining respectably dead when he had the chance?”
“Father, I shall never marry Mr. Ormsby. I have told him so.”