Audrey looked at her father with some astonishment—that wide, clear-eyed glance conveyed reproach.
'Do you think it necessary to ask me such a question?' she said, with a little dignity; 'should I have engaged myself to any man without loving him?'
'But he may have talked you into it; you may have mistaken your feelings,' suggested Dr. Ross; but Audrey shook her head.
'I am not a child,' she said, rather proudly. 'Father, you have always liked Mr. Blake. You can surely have no objection to him personally?'
'Yes, but my liking did not go to the extent of wishing him to be my son-in-law,' he replied, with a touch of grim humour; 'in my opinion, Audrey, Mr. Blake is far too young.'
'He is three-and-twenty,' she pleaded; 'he is two months older than I am. What does age matter, father? He will grow older every day. I know some men are boyish at that age; but I think Cyril's life has matured him.'
'Still, I would rather have entrusted you to an older man, and one who had in some measure made his position. Mr. Blake is only at the beginning of his career; it will be years before he achieves any sort of position. Audrey, you know me well enough by this time: I am not speaking of his poverty, though that alone should have deterred him from aspiring to my daughter. We think alike on these points, and I care nothing about a rich son-in-law; but Mr. Blake has only his talents and good character to recommend him. He is far too young; he is poor, and his family has no social standing.'
'But, father, surely a good character is everything. How often I have heard you say what a high opinion his Dean had of him, and what an excellent character he had borne at school and college; and then think what a son and a brother he is—how unselfish, how hard-working! How could any girl be afraid of entrusting her future to him?'
Dr. Ross sighed. Audrey's mind was evidently made up. Why had he brought this misfortune on them all by engaging this fascinating young master—for he certainly looked upon it as a misfortune. After all, was it any wonder that Cyril Blake, with his perfect face and lovable disposition, had found his way to his daughter's heart? 'Why could he not have fallen in love with someone else?' he groaned to himself; for Audrey was the very apple of his eye, and there was no one he thought good enough for her, unless it were Michael. Not that such an idea ever really occurred to him. Michael's ill-health put such a thing out of the question; but Michael was his adopted son, and far above the average of men, in his opinion.
'Father, you will remember that my happiness is involved in this,' Audrey said, after a little more talk had passed between them. 'You will be good to Cyril when he speaks to you to-morrow.'