"Your mother has just gone to her room," the man replied, his brows contracting with a frown of pain as he met his daughter's beautiful but clouded eyes. "Come in, Dorothy," he added, throwing a touch of brightness into his tones; "I wish to have a little talk with you."
The maiden reluctantly obeyed, moving forward a few paces into the room and gravely searching her father's face as she did so.
"I suppose you know that I am going away, Dorothy? Your mother has told you—ahem!—of the—the change I—we are contemplating?" John Hungerford inquiringly observed, but with unmistakable embarrassment.
"Yes, sir," said Dorothy, with an air of painful constraint.
"How would you like to come with me, dear? You have a perfect right to choose with whom you will live for the future."
"I choose to live with my mother!" And there was now no constraint accompanying the girl's positive reply.
The man's right hand clenched spasmodically; then his dark eyes blazed with sudden anger.
"Ha! Evidently your mother has been coaching you upon the subject," he sharply retorted.
"Mamma hasn't said a word to me about—about that part of the—the plan," Dorothy faltered.
"Then you mean me to understand that, of your own free will, you prefer to remain with your mother altogether?"