“And why should he not, Hope?” said Mrs Oswald; “does it alter his duty that he is old?”
“I don’t know, mother,” said Hope again; “but if my grandfather were living now, my father would not always ask him before he did anything, as I ask you; and perhaps William is right, and perhaps—mother, what would my father do if William disobeyed him?”
“I believe he would never speak to him again,” said Mrs Oswald.
Hope shrank back and looked afraid.
“And all that he has, Hope, he would take from William and give to you.”
“To me, mother? that would not do William any harm,” said Hope, looking up brightly; “though if my father would not speak to him—but he would, mother—he could not help it.”
“My dear, I have known your father longer than you have,” said Mrs Oswald; “and besides, Hope, Helen Buchanan would not consent if your father did not consent; she is as firm as he is.”
“Then it is all because everybody is proud, mother,” said Hope, turning away disconsolately, “and would rather make other folk unhappy than give up their own will.”
“There are some things in the world, Hope,” said Mrs Oswald, “that are of more importance than even making people happy.”
“I know, mother,” said Hope: “it is best to be right always, whether we are happy or not; but this is not right, I am sure—my father does not know—there is nobody in Fendie like Helen Buchanan!”