"Pray hear me," interrupted Glynn with difficulty; "so charming a creature as your daughter, wants no makeweight to recommend her; she would be a treasure in herself to any man of taste and feeling. But I do not wish or intend to marry for a considerable time to come," he continued, with increasing firmness, quite determined not to yield to the suggestion of another what he denied to the passionate craving of his own heart. "As you say, we are men of the world, and can discuss such a question coolly and fairly without, on my part, the smallest infringement of the warm respect and regard I feel for Miss Lambert. There are circumstances—reasons on which it is unnecessary to dilate—which forbid my entertaining your flattering and attractive proposition."
"Suppose I guess what they are," said Lambert, eagerly rolling up a cigarette, and scattering the shreds of tobacco as he did so. "You're a bit of a swell, I calculate; you are among a desperate respectable set of city bosses. Hear me now; I'm not thin-skinned. I know I'm not the sort that would go down with them, and you know I was a queer lot once. Well, if you take my Elsie, I'll go right away; I'll never ask to trouble you or her. What matter what becomes of me if she is safe?—oh, God! safe with an honorable, kind man, who would give her a peaceful home. Ay, Elsie, I love you well enough never to ask to see your sweet face if I could earn peace and security for you!"
"And do you think she would love a husband who could part her from such a father as you are?" asked Glynn, deeply touched.
"But she should never know,"—eagerly: "I'd just go away on business, and stay away, and she'd forget; she would always have a kind thought for me, but the new love would fill her heart; and if you tried to win her she'd love you. I am sure she would! Now, can't it be, Glynn?—can't it?"
"No. It is with deepest reluctance I say it. If I can in any way serve you or her, command me; but unfortunately for myself this cannot be."
There was a short expressive silence; then Lambert said in an altered voice, "Anyhow, there is no harm done; I am sure you've some good reason, and we'll not be the worse friends because we can be nothing nearer."
"Certainly not; and for my part I have a higher esteem for you than I ever had before. I trust, however, that you have no serious cause for uneasiness about your daughter. If her little fortune is secured, these are too prosaic times for daring and villainous lovers, murderous conspirators, or other dramatic dangers."
"Ay, civilization is just deep enough to hide the devils that work underneath it. I had one or two things to tell a son-in-law that, maybe, I had better keep to myself now."
"I sincerely hope you will not look on me as the less warm a friend because I cannot unfortunately fall in with your views; you do not wish me to absent myself?"
"Far from it," interrupted Lambert; "be true to me—be true to her; maybe by and by you'll have a good wife that might befriend my girl; she has no one in the world belonging to her but myself, and I begin to fear I am a broken reed."