No wonder, therefore, that the girl should have longed for her father's company and protection; though she looked at him now with an air of bewilderment.
"You know something of him, then?" she said, searching the worn face with anxious eyes.
"I know his name. I attended his mother's wedding. Indeed, why trouble to conceal the fact that it was then I first saw your mother? She was a brides-maid, a girl of fourteen, and already notable as a musical prodigy. I did not meet her again for six years, when her voice had given way, and she began to dabble in art. Mr. and Mrs. Fosdyke brought their little son to our wedding. He was an extraordinarily pretty child, and almost attracted more attention than the bride."
Ingersoll spoke in the tone of one who was recalling the past without pain; but his glance followed the last stragglers of the procession to Nizon,—Nizon, with its finely carved Calvary, and its high-perched stone cross bearing the tortured body of the Christ.
"Father dear," cried Yvonne impulsively, "I have made up my mind. You are powerless; but I can act. I will not have you harrowed and wounded at every turn. You and I, together with Lorry and Peridot, saved my mother's life. She must repay us by the only means she possesses,—by conferring the freedom of our own small Paradise."
"Yvonne," he sighed, "some day soon you will be marrying."
Whereat the girl almost laughed. "No matter what happens, that is the last thing I should dream of doing," she said.
"But why? It is the one thing that a girl of your age should have mainly in mind. Even in this small community, you might find a most excellent and chivalric husband——"
"Meaning Lorry," said Yvonne, without hesitation.