“But it is a subject that must be discussed, and discussed very fully, too. Jane, my girl, you are a pauper, neither more nor less than a pauper!” He spoke in a dry harsh voice, as if he had made up his mind that his emotion should on no account over-master him.
“Well, papa dear, even if such be the case, I don’t suppose that either you or I will love each other any the less on that account.”
“That is not the question, girl. It was always a happiness to me to know that I should be able to give you fifteen or twenty thousand on your wedding day. In trying to turn that fifteen into fifty thousand, I have lost every penny of it, and in so doing I have altogether ruined your prospects in life.”
“I can’t see that at all, papa. What you did you did for the best, and if I ever do get married, I hope to marry some one who will love me for myself, and not for any money I might be possessed of.”
“Very pretty, and very sentimental,” said the Squire, gruffly, “but confounded rubbish for all that. And how hard on young Cope! He will be quite justified in breaking off the engagement.”
“What a splendid opportunity Mr. Cope will now have for proving the sincerity of his affection!” said Jane, with a little contemptuous curl of the lip.
“You are talking rank nonsense, Janet. Edward Cope loves you; there’s no doubt of that; but his father will never consent to his marrying a beggar, which is just about what you are at the present moment; and Edward has been too well brought up to go in opposition to his father. I confess it will be a great disappointment to me.”
“But none to me, papa dear!” cried Jane, impulsively, as she flung her arms round her father’s neck and kissed him—“no disappointment to me! Rather let us call it a happy release.”
“I don’t understand you,” said the old man, as he took her by the shoulders and gazed into her face. “I thought you loved Edward Cope as much as he loved you. You don’t mean to tell me that I have been mistaken.”
“There has been a mistake somewhere, papa,” faltered Jane, as she drew one of his arms round her neck, and nestled her head on his shoulder. “I—I almost fancy that it must have been on my side. I allowed myself to drift into an engagement with Mr. Cope almost without knowing what I was about. I liked Mr. Cope very well, and I thought that I could be happy as his wife, but I have found out my mistake since then. For me to marry Mr. Cope would be to condemn myself to a life of hopeless misery. I could never love him, papa, as a wife ought to love her husband.”