"I acted as I only could act under the circumstances," was my reply.
"But tell me why, Heather."
"You know what you did, father. You sent away the man I loved. I love him with all my heart and soul and strength. You sent him away. Then you and Lady Helen spoke to me; you said I was to give him up. I don't—I mean that kind of thing would never make me give him up, never! I could not live in the house with Lady Helen. She wanted me to marry Lord Hawtrey; father, I will never marry him—he knows it. You, father, you and Lady Helen, did your utmost to break my heart, but my heart is my own as my life is my own. I could no longer stay with you. Father, I have chosen; I have come back to the poor life, to the humble life, to the little life at Cherton, to Aunt Penelope's house and to Aunt Penelope's home once more. I don't want grandeur, I don't want what Lady Helen calls a high position—I should hate it, I should loathe it; it would be torture to me. Father, I won't have it!"
He was quite silent, but, just as I had done that morning, he began to pull up pieces of purple heather and to scatter the little bells on the grass by his side. His eyes were lowered.
"I hate the world!" I said.
After a long pause, he spoke.
"Bless you, Heather."
"Father!"
"For saying those words," he continued.
"Oh, father, I knew you agreed with me in your heart of hearts."