“But—Michael, can’t you speak? Don’t you—don’t you—really love me?”
“Of course I do—of course I do—”
Just then the door was opened, and in came Colonel Arbuthnot.
“I am sorry to interrupt you two young people,” he said, “but the fact is, I want to hear what arrangements you have made. I stand in the place of father to this young girl, Michael Reid. Are you willing to be her husband; to wait for her until you can afford to marry; to live a clean and good life for her sake, sir; to make yourself worthy of her? She is a very precious gem, sir—a girl hard to match: she has purity of heart and honesty of motive. She is innocent, sir, as the dawn, and beautiful, sir, as the sunrise. Do you think you are fit for her? Tell me so, honestly, and at once: otherwise, I shall not be able to give my consent.”
“I am not—I am not fit for her; I am not worthy,” said Michael.
“That is for yourself to decide, of course—”
“Oh—but Michael—” said poor Florence.
“Florence, dear, be silent. Michael Reid must speak now from his full heart. Michael, I know all about this little affair.”
“Little affair!” said Florence. She felt indignant at the word “little” being introduced. The Colonel turned to her with a very gentle smile. He laid his hand on her arm.
“You are very young, my darling,” he said; “only a child—little more than a child. You don’t understand the world at all.”