"Tell your young mistress when she comes downstairs that I want to see her."
"Yes, sir." And the servant departed noiselessly from the room.
Sir John edged his chair a few inches nearer the fire. He was feeling very nervous and ill at ease, but he was determined to bring matters to a head. He knew that Lord Probus was getting impatient, and he was just as impatient himself. Moreover, delays were often fatal to the best-laid plans.
Dorothy came slowly into the room, and with a troubled look in her eyes.
"You wanted to see me, father?" she questioned timidly.
"Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you. Please sit down." And he continued to stare at the fire.
Dorothy seated herself in an easy-chair on the other side of the fireplace and waited. If he was nervous and ill at ease, she was no less so. She had a shrewd suspicion of what was coming, and she dreaded the encounter. Nevertheless, she had fully made up her mind as to the course she intended to take, and she was no longer a child to be wheedled into anything.
Sir John looked up suddenly.
"I have been thinking, Dorothy," he said, "that we ought to get the wedding over before Christmas. You seem almost as well as ever now, and there is no reason as far as I can see why the postponed ceremony should be any longer delayed."
"Are you in such a great hurry to get rid of me?" she questioned, with a pathetic smile.