“At dinner you first saw him,” said Mr Vaughan, correcting his daughter. “But, no matter for that,” he continued, gleefully rubbing his hands together, and not noticing the puzzled expression upon Kate’s countenance. “It might be, that you did not think of him in the first moments of your introduction. It’s not often people do. A little bashfulness has to be got over. And so then, Kate, you like him now—you think you like him now?”
“Oh! father, you may be sure I do—better than any one I ever saw—excepting yourself, dear papa.”
“Ah! my little chit, that’s a different sort of liking—altogether different. The one’s love—the other is but filial affection—each very well in its place. Now, as you’re a good girl, Kate, I have a bit of pleasant news for you.”
“What is it, papa?”
“I don’t know whether I should tell you or not,” said the Custos, playfully patting his daughter upon the cheek; “at least, not now, I think. It might make you too happy.”
“Oh, papa! I have told you what you wished me; and I see it has made you happy. Surely you will not conceal what you say will do the same for me? What is the news?”
“Listen, then, Kate!”
Mr Vaughan bending forward, as if to make his communication more impressive, pronounced in a whisper:—
“He reciprocates your feeling—he likes you!”
“Father, I fear he does not,” said the young Creole, with a serious air.