"Have you—"
"Read them? No; but I heard all that she told you that day."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, understanding why she looked so changed, and his eyes rested pityingly upon her. A fiery blush burned her throat and face for a moment, leaving her paler than ever when it receded.
"Yes; I know," she said, and clasped her hands together on her lap. "Father, will you tell Mr. Everett?"
"But—"
"I cannot do it; help me, will you?"
It was a piteous appeal, and his heart melted at the sight of her anguished eyes.
"You think he ought to know it?"
"He must, of course," she said, and he felt satisfied that she had not, for a moment even, been tempted to keep the truth from him. "He is in the parlor," she continued after a slight pause; "tell him all, spare nothing," her tensely drawn lips quivering, her hands tightly clenched.
"My child, you take it too hard," laying his hand on her head. "I am grieved for you, but do not let it spoil your peace."