“Would to Heaven,” sighed Ethel, “that he were an obscure and loyal man!”
The old man rose, and paced the room in agitation. “My daughter,” said he, “your poor father implores and commands you. Do not let me die uncertain as to your future; promise me that you will accept this stranger as your husband.”
“I will obey you always, father; but do not hope that he will return.”
“I have weighed the probabilities, and I think from the tone in which Ordener uttered your name—”
“That he loves me!” bitterly interrupted Ethel. “Oh, no; do not believe it.”
The father answered coldly: “I do not know whether, to use your girlish expression, he loves you; but I know that he will return.”
“Give up that idea, father; besides, you would not wish him for your son-in-law if you knew who he is.”
“Ethel, he shall be my son-in-law, be his name and rank what they may.”
“Well!” she replied, “how if this young man, whom you regard as your solace, whom you consider as your daughter’s support, be the son of one of your mortal foes,—of the viceroy of Norway, Count Guldenlew?”
Schumacker started back.