"I have no right to ask it—to ask any favor of you, much less a favor which I feel is the greatest any man can ask at your hands. But I—love her—and—I—I simply ask that you will give me your consent to win her if I can." I was very frightened, but my voice had steadied me, and I was gazing straight in his eyes.
"Does my daughter know of this extraor—of this?" He asked the question very slowly, and his eyes were holding mine.
"I hardly know what she may divine. I told her once that I thought a gentleman should not—should not try to marry a gir—a lady until he had asked her father's permission, and she is so clear-minded that I hardly know——"
"Does she know of your attachment?"
"Yes, sir. I mean, I told her once—I——"
"I thought you said you thought a gentleman had no right to speak to her until he had gained her father's consent!" A slight scorn had crept into his face.
"Yes, sir, I did—something like that, though not quite that—but——"
"How then do you reconcile the two?" He spoke calmly, and I observed a certain likeness to his daughter.
"I do not—I cannot. I do not try. I only say that in my cooler moments my principle is stronger than my action. I gave way to my feelings once, and declared myself, but when I got hold of myself I felt I should come to you and give you some account of myself."
"I see." I began to hope again, as he reflected.