"Be quiet," he said, holding fast the hand which in my earnestness I had put in his; "she is not my servant; she is yours; it is for you to say what you will do."
"I will not send her back," I said.
"But it may be right to consider what would be Mr. Randolph's wish on the subject. If you take her, he may lose
several hundred dollars' worth of property: it is right for me to warn you. Would he choose to run the risk?"
I remember now what a fire at my heart sent the blood to my face. But with my hand in Dr. Sandford's, and those blue eyes of his reading me, I could not keep back my thought.
"She ought to be her own mistress," I said.
A brilliant flash of expression filled the blue eyes and crossed his face—I could hardly tell what, before it was gone. Quick surprise—pleasure—amusement—agreement; the first and the two last certainly; and the pleasure I could not help fancying had lent its colour to that ray of light which had shot for one instant from those impenetrable eyes. He spoke just as usual.
"But, Daisy, have you studied this question?"
"I think I have studied nothing else, Dr. Sandford."
"You know the girl is not yours, but your father's."