“No, papa. I don’t think it. There is always plenty of work in the world, and I would have tried to do my share, as Auntie Jean has done. I should not have broken my heart, but—you are not very angry, papa?”
“My dear, my anger is neither here nor there. Ye are your ain mistress now, and can do as you please without asking my leave.”
Jean went white as she listened, and sat suddenly down, gazing at him with wide, startled eyes. She had expected her father to be disappointed, perhaps angry, but she had expected nothing so terrible as this.
“Papa,” she said, rising and coming a step nearer, “nothing can happen without your full and free consent. If you cannot give it, you must send—Captain Calderwood away—”
“They have all said that,” said Mr Dawson to himself. Aloud he said with a dubious smile, “And ye’ll promise no’ to break your heart about him yet?” But his eyes softened wonderfully as he looked at her. “Papa,” said Jean laying her hand on his shoulder as she stood a little behind him, “we love one another dearly. And you ay liked Willie, papa, and so did—mamma.”
“My dear, I like him well. But have you thought of all you will have to bear as a sailor’s wife?—the anxiety and suspense, the long, long waiting, and—”
“But, papa, I should have that anyway. I have had it, though—”
“My dear, ye little ken. And it might have been so different with you?”
“No, papa. It never could have been different. I wouldna have broken my heart, but I could never have cared for any one else.”
A knock at the door prevented any thing more, and in answer to Mr Dawson’s voice Captain Calderwood entered.