Such a contingency as this which he submitted to her she could not, by any possibility, have surmised; thought was absolutely paralysed. She knew not what to say, how to act, for what to prepare: in short, she was completely confounded, bewildered—ready to die with fright and grief.
Even now, Wilton had not raised his eyes to catch the expression of his daughter’s face. He was not without a consciousness that he was exercising a stretch of parental authority beyond its just limits, and he began to have a perception that it would be a great relief to him if he were to feel his daughter’s white arms entwining his neck, her soft lips pressing upon his forehead, as they uttered, in a low whisper, her assent to do as he wished her. But she made no sign, and he had a distinct sense that she did not.
“I sought this interview with you, Flo’, my darling,” he continued, with a slight cough, “because I thought, before you formed for yourself an attachment, you should know my position and your own, in respect to the disposal of your hand; also, because the young man to whom you are betrothed is in the house; and because, further, he is urgent to plead his own cause, to do which, of course, I have granted him full permission. You must expect to hear from his lips the soft language of affection, to think of him with tenderness, and always to remember that he will be your future husband.”
“Father!” burst from the lips of the unhappy girl. Sobbing hysterically, she flung herself at his feet, and clasped his knees.
Wilton did not expect this display. He had been surprised at her silence, and a feeling crept over him that she did not receive the revelation he made with her usual deference to any expression of his will, but he did not look for a weeping suppliant at his feet.
He started back and cried amazed:
“Flo’—Flo’—my child! why do you act thus?—what is the meaning of this affrighted sorrow?”
“Spare me—in mercy spare me!” she gasped. “Do not let me leave you; pray—pray—do not urge your proposition upon me!”
“My foolish girl,” he replied, soothingly, “we shall not separate. You will still be beneath this roof with me. Oh! believe me, I stipulated for that. There—there, Flo’—dry your tears; you can be a happy wife as well as a fond daughter.”
“No! no! no!” she exclaimed, with shuddering vehemence; “I cannot—I cannot—I dare not!” she half shrieked.