"I—I cannot, must not, without my father's permission," she faltered, "and oh! he forbade me to listen to anything of the kind. I am too young he says."
"When was that?"
"Three years ago."
"Ah! but you are older now; and you will let me write and ask his consent? I may say that you are not quite indifferent to me?"
"Yes," she murmured, turning her sweet, blushing face away from his ardent gaze.
"Thank you, dearest, a thousand thanks!" he cried, pressing her hand in his. "And now may I ask who and what that Mr. Travilla is?"
She explained, winding up by saying that he was much like a second father to her.
"Father!" he exclaimed, "he doesn't look a day over twenty-five."
"He is about two years younger than papa and doesn't look any younger, I think," she answered with a smile. "But strangers are very apt to take papa for my brother."
Egerton left an hour before Mr. Travilla came, and that hour Elsie spent in her own room in a state of great excitement,—now full of the sweet joy of loving and being loved, now trembling with apprehension at the thought of the probable effect of Mr. Travilla's story upon her father. She was fully convinced of Egerton's truth and innocence; yet quite aware that his explanation might not prove so satisfactory to Mr. Dinsmore.