"Oh, yours," I said; "you won't go away from your own Heather—you couldn't—you love her too well."
"God knows I love you, pretty one. You are the only creature on earth I do love. I love you with all my heart and soul, and that's saying a great deal. For the ten long years I was in prison I kept thinking and thinking of you, child. But for you I might have lost my reason; but your little face, and your ways, and your love for me kept me—well, all right. And now I am a free man again—I mean, I am free to claim your love. But you haven't decided what part Carbury is to play in this."
I shivered very slightly.
"I have told you," I said. "He won't play any part. I—I'm going to write to him. We need not talk about him any more. Yesterday you and my stepmother were opposed to my marrying him; now I also am opposed. There will be no marriage between us. I am all yours."
"Oh, you best child in all the world!"
"Then it's settled, isn't it, Daddy?"
"My little girl, I can't tell. It rests with Carbury himself. But my part—you've got to hear my part now."
I felt very, very sad when he said this. I seemed to guess in advance that a great strain and trial was about to be put upon me. My father looked at me, and then he looked away. Again he took up some great, full bells of heather and crushed them in his hand; he threw them away and turned and faced me.
"There! The worst is out. I have got to stay with her ladyship."
"Father!"