“Papa, I—I am not going to Newport this summer,” she said, with outward calmness; but Earle could almost feel her tremble, and his heart ached for her, in prospect of the conflict which he knew must come.
“Not going to Newport!” Mr. Dalton said, with raised eyebrows and well-feigned surprise. “Who ever heard of such a thing as our not going to Newport during the summer? Of course you are going to Newport, Editha; I could not think of leaving you at home alone, and—I should be so exceedingly lonesome;” and he shot a cunning glance at the young couple, that disagreeable sneer still upon his lips.
“Papa, I am really sorry if you will be lonely——” began Editha, a tremble in her voice, when Earle quietly laid his hand upon hers and stopped her.
“Mr. Dalton,” he said, in a cold, business-like tone, “we may as well come to the point and have this matter settled once for all. Editha has already decided to return with me to Europe as my wife.”
Instead of a blaze of anger, as he had expected, Mr. Dalton chuckled audibly, and gleefully rubbed his hands together, as if this were really a delightful piece of news to him.
But he took no more notice of Earle than if he had not been there. Instead, he again addressed himself to Editha:
“My dear, did I understand that last statement of Mr.—ah—Wayne’s correctly?”
“You did, papa,” she answered, but it was a great effort for her to utter the three short words.
“You have decided to spend your future in Europe?”
“Yes, sir.”