"Thank God, he is gone!" replied the baronet, drawing his breath freely, as if relieved from a painful oppression. "Introduced as he was, it was impossible not to treat him with respect, but he strangely disturbed me. Did you not think him a cold, suspicious youth?"
"I cannot say I did, sir."
"You are singularly unsuspicious, Constance, for one so wise: you ought to learn distrust; it is a dark, a dreadful, but a useful lesson."
"Methinks one has not need to study how to be wretched; suspicion has to me ever seemed the school of misery."
The baronet made no reply to this observation, but soon after abruptly exclaimed,—
"He will not come again, I suppose."
Constance did not know.
He then fancied he could walk a little; and, pressing to his side the arm on which he leaned, said,—
"Ah, my child! a willing arm is more delightful to a parent than a strong one. Wilt always love thy father, Constance?"
"My dear father, do you doubt it?"