“Yes, by bitter experience,” said his wife.
“By bitter experience?” echoed her husband faintly, all the fight gone out of him. “Do you mean that I—— My God, Augusta! What do you mean?”
“No, no, Edgar! Don’t be a goose! You have been a perfect dear to me all these years. But can’t you see that you are breaking Peg’s heart?” said his wife, coming nearer to him.
“Augusta!” implored the Colonel, opening his arms toward her. “Have I ever in any way hurt—injured—broken—— Good God, Augusta!” The little man’s voice grew husky.
“Dear, dear Daddy,” cried Peg, running to him and throwing her arms round her father’s neck. “I have been a wicked girl. But Paul loves me, as you love Mamma. And, Daddy, I love Paul. And who was it taught me to love Paul, long ago? It was you, Daddy, it was your own self, Daddy, when you used to love him. You don’t want to break my heart?”
“Break your heart, Peggy? My little Peggy!” said the Colonel, sniffing and fumbling for his handkerchief. “Here, Paul, take care of this girl,” he said, pushing Peg away from him. “Augusta, my dear, if ever I have in any way, by word——”
“Hush, you silly man. You have been a perfect angel to me,” said his wife, putting her arms about him and kissing him.
“Guy!” said the Colonel, when he had wiped his eyes and recovered his speech, “I deeply regret your disappointment. You will assure Sir Stephen that somehow this thing got beyond me. I did for you all a man could, but Peg must follow her heart.”
“I think, sir,” said Guy, greatly relieved, “you have really hit it. I quite agree. Of course, Peg must follow her heart.”
“Paul, give me your hand, my boy,” said the Colonel, with recovered dignity. “Take my girl when you are ready for her. And after all, my dear,” turning to his wife, “we shall be glad to have the Gaspards again at Pine Croft.”