"I have been from home," he answered. "In fact, I have been to Boulogne."
"To Boulogne?" she asked, with a start, and the blood mounted in a torrent to her neck and face.
"I went across to see your father," he said slowly.
"Yes?" she questioned, and her face was set and tense.
"He was obdurate. He said he would rather see you in your coffin."
For a moment there was silence. Then she said—
"Was he very angry?"
"I am sorry to say he was. He evidently dislikes me very much—a feeling which I fear is mutual."
"I wonder you had the courage to ask him," she said at length.
"I would dare anything for your sake," he replied, with averted eyes. "I would defy him if you were willing. And, indeed, I cannot see why he should be the arbiter of your fate and mine."