"He said he would never ask you again?"
"Yes, Papa; he said it twice."
"Well, if he said it twice fifty times, it was a lie, or would have been if he had not believed it himself at the time. Never fear but you will have a chance to tell him that you have changed your mind, and without any wound to your pride either."
"Oh, Papa!" cried Winifred, rising and throwing her arms about his neck, "you are such a comfort!"
The old clock on the landing of the stairway struck one.
"There, it is morning already," said her father. "Off to bed with you, else I shall have no one to pour out my cup of coffee to-morrow." As he spoke, he gently unclasped her arms from about his neck, but she would not go quite yet.
"If—if—all this should ever come about, are you quite sure you would be willing to have me leave you?"
"Quite sure, my dear. It is the natural thing, and what is natural must be right. Now, good-night."
Winifred wiped away the tears which had been hanging on the fringe of her eyelashes, and after a parting hug gathered up her wraps and swept away to her room. Her father watched her tenderly till the last trace of her gown had vanished [Pg 302] up the stairs; then he closed the door softly, took a miniature from its case in the drawer, laid it on the table, and bowed his head on both arms above it.
"'Father and Mother both.' Yes, that was what I promised, and that is what I must be so far as I can, and may God help me!" he murmured.