"Oh, my child! I thought you would be asleep," he answered, advancing to the bedside.
"You are not very angry with me?" she asked, making him sit down by her.
"No; not angry. But so grieved!"
"Then may he not write to me?"
She looked so loving, so eager, so sorrowful that he could not say No.
"Yes; he may write."
She drew his head towards her with her wet hands, and gave him a kiss the very gratitude of which pained him.
"But not you," he added, trying to be stern. "You must not write. You must not entangle yourself farther. I want to make inquiries. I must have time in this matter. I will not be hurried. You must not consider yourself engaged, Lillie. I cannot allow it."
"Oh, you will inquire, papa?" implored the girl, confident that Carter's character would come unharmed out of the furnace of investigation.
"Yes, yes. But give me time. This is too important, too solemn a matter to be hurried over. I will see. I will decide hereafter. There. Now you must go to sleep. Good night, my darling."