"Spoken like my own dear, loving daughter," he said approvingly, and with a slight caress. "By the way, did Robert Johnson's bit of news make my daughter and her lover a trifle jealous that their engagement must be so long a one?"
"Not me, papa; I am entirely willing—yes, very glad—to be subject to your orders; very loath to leave the dear home with you and pass from under your care and protection. Oh, I sometimes feel as if I could never do it. But then I say to myself, 'But I shall always be my dear father's child and we need not—we will not love each other the less because another claims a share of my affection.' Is that not so, papa?"
"Yes, daughter; and I do not believe anything can ever make either one of us love the other less. But it is growing late and about time for my eldest daughter to be seeking her nest, if she wants to be up with the birds in the morning and ready to share a stroll with her father through these beautiful grounds before breakfast."
"Yes, sir; but, if you are willing, I should like to wait for Evelyn.
She and Max will be in presently, I think. Papa, I do think they have
begun to be lovers, and I am glad; for I should dearly love to have
Eva for a sister."
"And I should not object to having her for a daughter," returned the captain, with a pleased little laugh. "And you are not mistaken, so far as Max is concerned. He asked me to-day if I were willing that he should try to win the dear girl, and I told him most decidedly so; that I heartily wished him success in his wooing. Though, as in your case, I think marriage would better be deferred for a year or two."
"Yes, Max would be quite as much too young for a bridegroom as I for a bride," she said with a slight and amused laugh; "and I don't believe he would disregard his father's advice. All your children love you dearly and have great confidence in your opinion on every subject, father dear."
"As I have in their love and willingness to be guided by me," the captain responded in a tone of gratification. "You may wait for Evelyn. I think she and Max will be in presently. Ah, yes; see they are turning this way now."
Max had given his arm to Evelyn as they left the house, and crossing the lawn together they strolled slowly along the bank of the bayou.
"Oh, such a beautiful night as it is!" exclaimed Evelyn, "and the air is so soft and balmy one can hardly realize that in our more northern homes cold February reigns."
"No," said Max, "and I am glad we are escaping the blustering March winds that will soon be visiting that section. Still, for the year round I prefer that climate to this."