'It is not money I want,' she returned, so gravely that he began to feel uncomfortable. 'Daddy, it is something very, very different. This afternoon Cyril Blake spoke to me, and I—that is, we—are engaged.'
Dr. Ross gave a great start and dropped the Times as though it burnt him. For a moment he did not speak. With all his mildness and benevolence, he was a man of strong passions, though no one would have guessed it from his habitual self-control.
'We are engaged,' she repeated softly, and then she stroked her father's hand; but he drew it rather quickly away.
'Audrey,' he said, in a voice that she did not recognise, it was so stern, so full of displeasure; 'I would rather have heard anything than this, that a child of mine should so far forget herself as to engage herself to any man without her parents' consent.'
'Oh, daddy——' she began caressingly, but he stopped her.
'It was wrong; it was what I would not have believed of you, Audrey; but with regard to Mr. Blake, it was altogether dishonourable. How dared he,' here the Doctor's eyes flashed through his spectacles, 'how dared he win my daughter's affections in this clandestine way?'
'Father, you must not speak so of Cyril!' returned Audrey calmly, though she was a little pale—a little disturbed at this unexpected severity; 'it is not what you think: there was nothing clandestine or dishonourable. He did not mean to speak to me; it was more my fault than his. You shall hear all, every word from the beginning. Do you think I would hide anything from my father?' And here two large tears welled slowly from Audrey's eyes, but she wiped them away. Perhaps her gentleness and the sight of those tears mollified Dr. Ross, for when Audrey laid her clasped hands upon his knee he did not again repulse her. Nay, more, when she faltered once in telling her story, he put his hand on her head reassuringly.
'Is that all you have to tell me, my dear?' and now Dr. Ross spoke in his old kind voice.
'Yes, father dear; you have heard everything now, and—and—' beseechingly, 'you will not be hard on us!'
'Hard on him, I suppose you mean,' returned Dr. Ross, with rather a sad smile; 'a man is not likely to be hard to his own flesh and blood. I still think he has acted rather badly, but I can make allowance for him better now—he was sorely tempted. But now I want you to tell me something: are you sure that your happiness is involved in this—that it would really cost you too much to give him up?'