Archie Weil wished that he could have led this young man aside for just a moment, to show him that this was no time to make demands or exact conditions. He had no doubt that Daisy would explain everything, a little later. All that was wanted now was a revocation of the dismissal that Mr. Fern had pronounced. But he could not control the stormy ocean upon which they rode.
"You seem singularly obtuse," came the shaking voice of the old gentleman. "It is not for you to dictate terms. We want to see you no more. Is not that clear enough?"
It certainly did not seem to be. Roseleaf lingered, wondering if these were really to be the last phrases he would hear in that house—in that very room where he had expected to hear the words that would make this sweet girl his for life.
"Daisy," he said, addressing himself once more to the silent figure, "I cannot believe you have so soon learned to hate me!"
She looked up at the solemn face and then dropped her eyes again.
"You will tell me where you were?" he pleaded. "It is my right to know."
She looked up again, with a wild horror in her features.
"Oh, I cannot!" she cried. "I never can tell you. I never can!"
This statement shocked more than one person in that room. Up to this moment Mr. Fern had only understood, from the disjointed expressions of his daughter when she entered the house, that she did not wish to be questioned at that time. She had also explained to him that she had sent the telegram to make the coast clear of all except her parent, as she did not wish to meet others on her first arrival. When he had urged the duty of informing Mr. Weil she had acquiesced, not dreaming that Mr. Roseleaf would be in his company.