"What I have to say can be told in a few words. I would, perhaps, do better to leave it unsaid; but I wish to repair, with what honor I can, a course, which in itself has not, perhaps, been strictly honorable. Do you know, sir, that I love your daughter?"
Mr. Delancey stared at the head clerk for a moment, like a man suddenly struck dumb; then every trace of color vanished from his face.
"My daughter, sir! You surely don't mean Della!"
"Have you, then, another daughter? I mean none other than Miss Della; and I this night come to ask your consent to our union. We have loved long and sincerely, and—"
"How dare you utter such words as these to me? You dare to tell me, that a child of mine has stooped to notice her father's clerk?"
"Aye! not only has one stooped to love a clerk, but has not the other wedded a clerk's daughter? Mr. Delancey, I come to you as man to man; put away the difference of your wealth, and I am as high as yourself; as much a man, as high in station, and more honorable than yourself. Thus I dare to seek your daughter's hand; and crave her father's blessing."
"Have a care, sir, of what you say—more honorable? you dare to tell me that?"
"You know it to be the truth."
The merchant turned slightly pale.