Suddenly, while he was speaking, the Dominé’s brow cleared; he thought he understood the situation. It turned upon his selfishness and his daughter’s self-denial.
“Ursula,” he said, “you must forgive your poor old father. I am selfish, and of course there are difficulties. But I see that Otto van Helmont has somehow already succeeded in gaining your heart, so I suppose I must go back and tell him so. Or would you prefer to do it yourself?”
“Don’t, father,” cried Ursula. “Nobody has ever possessed my heart but you. I hate all men, as I said the other day. See how I liked and admired Gerard—for years, ever since I could think—and now! I could almost have cut off the fingers his touch had soiled! I don’t want to marry any one.”
“How beautiful,” thought the Dominé, not without a twinge of self-condolence, “are the unconscious workings of a maiden’s heart. The dear child lays bare her love and doesn’t know she possessed it! It is my duty to prevent a most fatal mistake. Poor motherless one; I must take a mother’s place to-day!” Like many old-fashioned people, the Dominé believed that when “a good woman” says she doesn’t love a man, this always means she does. So he abstained from useless questions.
“Ursula,” he said, heroically, “Otto van Helmont is not one of these men you dread. Dear child, I know him well. He is a good and upright gentleman. I should be glad to think, my dear”—the Dominé flung himself headlong upon the altar—“glad to think that when I am gone my daughter will have such a strong defender. The world is evil, dear, and I am old. At any moment I may leave you unprotected.”
She laid down her needle-work, and sat looking out of the window.
“I don’t think I quite love him,” she said, slowly. “Not like you.” Something in her solemn face filled him with sudden misgiving, although the last three words were reassuring.
“But, my dear,” he suggested, gently, “you admire him very much—do you not? You think he is a splendid man?”
“Yes,” she answered, still with that far-away look, “I admire him very much. I think he is a splendid man. I—I like to see him, father, and to hear him talk.”
“Trust me, my dear child, you are very much in love with him,” said the Dominé, sententiously, “as much as any maiden ought to be. Go in and tell him so.”