But his father did not seem to notice his petulance, and continued:
“Your Uncle Calvert writes me that you looked at a house which Alice would like. Did it suit you as well?”
“Yes; I found no fault with it except its size. It will cost one fortune to furnish it, and another to run it according to Alice’s ideas,” Godfrey answered, crisply, seeing, even then, as in a vision, a lovely little cottage somewhere among the hills in the quiet country, with just room enough in it for himself and one more, and that one, alas! not Alice.
“Thirty thousand a year ought to run most any house; and that, I believe, is Miss Creighton’s income,” was the colonel’s remark, to which there was no reply; and he continued: “I think we may as well secure this house at once. I will write to your Uncle Calvert to-day; and, Godfrey, it will suit me to have the marriage consummated soon,—say some time in the autumn. Shall I call Alice, and see if she is willing?”
He arose to touch the bell, when Godfrey interposed, and grasping his father’s arm, said quickly:
“Father, listen to me! My engagement was a hasty thing, brought about Heaven only knows how, and now I will not commit a second blunder by allowing myself to be driven into a hasty marriage.”
“Godfrey, my son!”—and now the colonel roused a little,—“one would think your heart was not in this marriage, which I desire so much!”
There was no answer from Godfrey, and the colonel went on:
“I trust you knew your own mind when you offered yourself to Alice, and that you have no thought of drawing back. Remember, that for many generations a Schuyler has never broken his word; they have all been men of honor, and my son must not be the first to disgrace us.”
Godfrey was white now, even to his lips, and his voice shook as he replied: