“You love my daughter; but are you sure that she loves you?”
The two lovers cast at each other a rapid glance of mute amazement.
“Yes,” continued the father. “I am sorry; for I love you, and would gladly call you son. But my daughter would never consent. She has recently confessed her aversion for you, and since your departure she is silent whenever I speak of you, and seems to avoid all thought of you as if you were odious to her. You must give up your love for her, Ordener. Never fear; love may be cured as well as hatred.”
“My lord!” exclaimed the astonished Ordener.
“Father!” cried Ethel, clasping her hands.
“Do not be alarmed, my daughter,” interrupted the old man; “I approve of this marriage, but you do not. I will never force your inclinations, Ethel. This last fortnight has wrought a great change in me; you are free to choose for yourself.”
Athanasius Munder smiled. “She is not,” he said.
“You are mistaken, dear father,” added Ethel, taking courage; “I do not hate Ordener.”
“What!” cried her father.
“I am—” resumed Ethel. She hesitated.