Now she got hold of his hand, and, turning round, gazed firmly into his face.
"Father, you have troubled me. You have caused my headache."
Instantly a startled look came into his eyes; and she, reading him now—as, alas! she knew how to do but too well—hastened to soothe it.
"You wanted to send me away, to make me less your own, if that were possible. Father, I have come here to-night to tell you that I am not going away—that I am all your own, even to the end."
"My own to the end? Yes, you must always be that. But what do you mean?"
She felt the hand she held trembling, and hastened to add,—
"Why did you keep the truth from me? Why did you try to deceive me, your nearest and dearest, as to your state of health? But I know it all now. I am not going away from you."
"You mean—you mean, Charlotte, you will not marry Hinton next week?"
"No, father."
"Have you told him?"