"Oh, father—at once?" She watched the blue quiver of light in the candle socket. "Very well—well—when the light goes out you shall have my answer."
He said no other word, but watched her pale face, looking weird in the upward flicker of the dying blue flame, and her eyes rested on that flame, and the flicker was reflected in them—now bright, then faint, swaying from side to side as a tide.
Then a mass of wax fell in, fed the flame, and it shot up in a golden spiral, revealing Bessie's face completely.
"Father! I but just now said to Fox Crymes 'Never! never! never!'"
She paused, the flame curled over.
"Father! within a few minutes must I go forth to him and withdraw the 'Never?'"
He did not answer, but he nodded. She had raised her eyes from the dying flame to look at him.
Again her eyes fell on the light.
"Father! If I withdraw my 'Never,' will you withdraw yours about Anthony?—never to forgive him—never to see him in Hall—never to count him as your son?"
The flame disappeared—the old man thought it was extinguished, but Bessie saw it still as a blue bead rolling on the molten wax; it caught a thread of wick and shot up again.