"Then, Daddy, it's all right, because I refused him last night—I refused him absolutely. He will never ask me again."
"I think it likely that he will ask you many times, poor child."
"He mustn't—he shan't! I won't see him."
"Heather, listen to me. Sit up; don't give way. It cuts me to the heart to deny you anything, and I fully believe that Carbury is all right and as straight as possible. A gallant soldier, child—yes, a gallant soldier. Mark my words, there are no men in all the world like soldiers, Heather; they are the pick of the earth—so brave, so honourable, so true. That's what Carbury is, and if he were rich and in the same position as Hawtrey, you should be his wife with all the pleasure in the world. But, Heather, my poor little girl, I can't fight against such long odds. I could once, but, child, I am a broken man, a broken man, and I can't withstand her. She has got me into a sort of trap. She pretends she's done everything in the world for me; I was mad enough—oh! I won't speak of that—I am her husband now, and I suppose most people would think that I'd done well for myself—they'd revel in the contrast between my life of late and my life now, and say 'That beggar Grayson'—but there! I won't speak of it."
"Daddy—has—Lady Helen—got ... I don't like to say—has she got a ... I mean, Daddy, are you a little—tiny bit—you, a brave soldier—a little, tiny bit afraid of her?"
"Afraid!" said my father. "Poof! not a bit of it. It is she who has cause to be afraid of me. I could—and, as there is a heaven above us, I will, too—frighten her into giving me some of my own way; yes, and I will, if she doesn't act fair by you, little girl."
"Father, why don't you tell me things? You are hiding something."
"Yes," said my father; "I am hiding something, and you must never know—never, as long as you live."
"Daddy, my heart is broken."
"Poor little maid! But you will get over it. And now I have something else to say. Lady Helen is not at all bad, and you would be extremely happy as Hawtrey's wife; he's a bit old, but he's a thorough gentleman, and you'd be very rich, and Helen would deal handsomely by you—she's promised that. She's very rich, too; I wish she wasn't. There's nothing in the world more hateful than depending upon your wife's money, and that's my cursed position. But if you promised to marry Hawtrey, she'd make things a bit square for you; she's settled to do that. It's awfully kind of her; it's downright generous; it's more than most people would expect. She'd do it in her lifetime, too; she'd settle twenty thousand on you—think of that, little Heather—twenty thousand is not to be despised."