Edward Pierson, returning from the Evening Service, where he had read the Lessons, saw them in the distance, and compressed his lips. Their long absence had vexed him. What ought he to do? In the presence of Love's young dream, he felt strange and helpless. That night, when he opened the door of his room, he saw Noel on the window-seat, in her dressing-gown, with the moonlight streaming in on her.
“Don't light up, Daddy; I've got something to say.”
She took hold of the little gold cross on his vest, and turned it over.
“I'm engaged to Cyril; we want to be married this week.”
It was exactly as if someone had punched him in the ribs; and at the sound he made she hurried on:
“You see, we must be; he may be going out any day.”
In the midst of his aching consternation, he admitted a kind of reason in her words. But he said:
“My dear, you're only a child. Marriage is the most serious thing in life; you've only known him three weeks.”
“I know all that, Daddy” her voice sounded so ridiculously calm; “but we can't afford to wait. He might never come back, you see, and then I should have missed him.”
“But, Noel, suppose he never did come back; it would only be much worse for you.”