General Delville was a splendid-looking man; and this, united with his wealth and station, could scarcely have failed to win to his heart any maiden whom he chose to address, less frank and upright than Della Delancey.
His fine features were lighted up with a beaming smile of pleasure, as he took her hand and led her to a seat, nor did he resign that hand without a gentle pressure of the white and perfumed fingers.
For an instant Della sat, with downcast eyes, in silence, while the General gazed upon her with the same smile upon his lips, but no words.
Suddenly Della lifted her eyes, and turned them full upon the face before her.
"General Delville?"
"Della."
"Pardon me, sir, for what I am about to say to you, and which I would have said long ago had I only had the opportunity; and—and—
"Go on, Miss Della," said the General, though he moved uneasily in his chair.
"General Delville, I, of course, am not unaware of your intentions with regard to myself, or the object of your visits at papa's house. I would not pain you for the world, sir; I esteem you, I love you so very much; but I want to tell you openly, as my heart dictates, that I have not for you the love that a wife should feel for her husband—only the love that a child should feel for a dear father; and if I married you, I could never feel for you anything more."