“You do? Not see him—any more—at all? Why, Caroline!”
“Not for a long, long time, at least. It would only make it harder—for him; and it’s of no use.”
Captain Elisha sighed again. “I guess I understand, Caroline. I presume likely I do. He—he asked somethin’ of you—and you couldn’t say yes to him. That was it, I suppose. Needn’t tell me unless you really want to, you understand,” he added, hastily.
“But I do. I ought to tell you. I should have told you before, and perhaps, if I had, he would not have ... Uncle Elisha, Mr. Pearson asked me to be his wife.”
The captain gave no evidence of surprise.
“Yes,” he replied, gravely, “I judged that was it. And you told him you couldn’t, I suppose. Well, dearie, that’s a question nobody ought to answer but the one. She’s the only one that knows what that answer should be, and, when other folks interfere and try to influence, it generally means trouble. I’m kind of disappointed; I’ll own up to that. I think Jim is a fine, honest, able young man, and he’d make a good husband, I’m sure. And, so far as his business, or profession, or whatever you call it, goes, he’s doin’ pretty well and sartin to do better. Of course, ’twa’n’t that that kept you from—”
“Uncle Elisha! Am I so rich that I should—”
“There! there, my girl! I know ’twa’n’t that, of course. I was only thinkin’ out loud, that’s all—tryin’ to find reasons. You didn’t care for him enough, I suppose. Caroline, you don’t care for anybody else, do you? You don’t still care for that other feller, that—”
“Uncle!” she sprang up, hurt and indignant. “How can you?” she cried. “How could you ask that? What must you think of me?”
“Please, Caroline,” he protested; “please don’t. I beg your pardon. I was a fool! I knew better. Don’t go. Tell me the real reason. Sit down again and let’s talk this out. Do sit down! that’s it. Now tell me; was it that you couldn’t care for Jim enough?”