“Tell him,” he said, “that I will take down my fence and he shall run the line to suit himself.” He could not have gone further.
The time that passed appeared unending to the Judge waiting in the darkness; but in truth it was not long, for the interview was brief. It was with Major Drayton and not with his daughter.
Major Drayton declined, both on his daughter's part and on his own, the honor which had been proposed.
At this moment the door opened and Lucy herself appeared. She was a vision of loveliness. Her face was white, but her eyes were steady. If she knew what had occurred, she gave no sign of it in words. She walked straight to her father's side and took his hand.
“Lucy,” he said, “Mr. Hampden has done us the honor to ask your hand and I have declined it.”
“Yes, papa.” Her eyelids fluttered and her bosom heaved, but she did not move, and Lucy was too much a Drayton to unsay what her father had said, or to undo what he had done.
Oliver Hampden's eyes did not leave her face. For him the Major had disappeared, and he saw only the girl who stood before him with a face as white as the dress she wore.
“Lucy, I love you. Will you ever care for me? I am going—going away to-morrow, and I shall not see you any more; but I would like to know if there is any hope.” The young man's voice was strangely calm.
The girl held out her hand to him.
“I will never marry anyone else.”