In spite of himself, his voice was quite hollow.
"But why don't you come in?"
"I'm not coming in; I'm going back to London again to-night."
"Why, father?" asked Nell, opening her lips for the first time, and looking at him with great intentness.
The Squire stooped and lifted Nell into his arms.
"I did not want you to see me," he said. "I knew you were having your big party to-night, and I had to come to the Towers on—on business. What are you trembling for, Nell? You ought not to be out; you must run back to the house at once; why, you are cold, child."
"I'm not cold, and I will stay and kiss you."
Nell's arms were pressed tightly round the Squire's neck. Her little soft lips pressed kiss after kiss on his somewhat grisly cheek.
Boris, standing on the ground, and looking up at Nell in her fathers arms, thoroughly realised for the first time that he had gone to useless trouble in cleaning the dove's cage.
"Now, Nell, you must be sensible," said her father. "I was obliged to come to the Towers to-night to—to fetch something. I knew from Molly's letters that you were going to have a big ball. I thought I'd like to see how the ball-room looked. We have not had a ball, a very big ball, in that room since the days of my great-grandmother. My grandmother has told me about that ball, and about the very window where my great-grandfather stood when he asked my great-grandmother to be his wife. He asked her to marry him at that ball, so of course she never could forget it; and the story of the green dress she wore—apple green—with her golden locks falling over her shoulders, and the story of the window where he proposed to her, have been handed down in the family ever since. To-night, in that same window, the little great-great-grandchild sat, and looked out, and I saw her; now, you must run back, Nell. Boris, you run back, too; run and enjoy yourselves; be happy—God, God bless you."