“Yours faithfully,
“Charles Huyton.”
It was well for Mr. Duncan’s peace and comfort, that loss of sight had prevented his cognizance of many things which must else have come to his knowledge: it was well, too, that he could not see his daughter’s face as she read this letter. The bitter irony of those words was concealed from him, but she felt it to her heart.
“Going to marry Dora!” said Mr. Duncan; “I am surprised. I thought he would have taken Isabel.”
She was silent; she could not speak; the effort to read through these words in an unbroken voice had been almost
too great for her; she was now recovering herself as well as she could.
Mr. Duncan thought a little, and presently observed—
“Well, I am glad he has resolved to marry at last; and to have your young friend settled at ‘the Ferns’ will be pleasant for you, Hilary, as long as you stay in the neighborhood. You must write him an answer by-and-by, and we will tell him of your marriage, my child.”
“Do you want me just now, my dear father?” said she, compelling herself to speak; “if not—”
“No—no, not at all at present; let Nest come to me in half-an-hour.”