Earle knelt upon the floor beside her, and, lifting her head to his breast, folded his strong arms around her.
“My darling, I think he is so beside himself with anger at some fancied injury that he scarcely knows what he means himself. Do not allow his words to distress you, Editha, and time, I feel, will bring everything right,” he said, soothingly.
“Papa has changed so during the last two or three years—I cannot understand it at all. He used to pet and indulge me as a child, and only laughed at my whims and fancies, as he termed my childish wilfulness; but, since mamma’s and Uncle Richard’s death, he has seemed entirely indifferent. He will not bear the least opposition from me upon any subject. We have had more than one controversy regarding you, Earle—I will stand up for what I know to be right and honorable, and if it happens to conflict with his ideas, he is so angry. Besides——”
She stopped suddenly, blushing vividly.
“Well, my ‘happiness?’” Earle said, encouragingly.
“I had occasion to offend him deeply not long ago, and I suppose he cannot recover from his disappointment.”
Then she went on to tell him of Mr. Tressalia’s proposals, and her repeated rejection of the same.
“I should not feel it right to speak of this to any one else,” she said, in conclusion, “for I think it is very wrong for any woman to boast of having given pain in any such way; but henceforth I am to have no secrets from you, and it is but proper that you should know of this.”
“I thought perhaps Mr. Tressalia would win you, Editha, at one time, and such was the report,” Earle said, wondering if she had read of that gentleman’s succession to a marquisate and great possessions.
But she knew nothing of it as yet, and only nestled nearer to him as she returned: