out his hand and caressed her,
stroking down her hair. "But I think you ought to tell me why it must
not be,--as I do love him."

"He is a foreigner."

"But is he? And why should not a foreigner be as good as an
Englishman? His name is foreign, but he talks English and lives as an
Englishman."

"He has no relatives, no family, no belongings. He is what we call an
adventurer. Marriage, my dear, is a most serious thing."

"Yes, papa, I know that."

"One is bound to be very careful. How can I give you to a man I know
nothing about,--an adventurer? What would they say in Herefordshire?"

"I don't know why they should say anything, but if they did I
shouldn't much care."

"I should, my dear. I should care very much. One is bound to think
of one's family. Suppose it should turn out afterwards that he
was--disreputable!"

"You may say that of any man, papa."

"But when a man has connexions, a father and mother, or uncles
and aunts, people that everybody knows about, then there is some
guarantee of security. Did you ever hear this man speak of his
father?"

"I don't know that I ever did."

"Or his mother,--or his family? Don't you think that is suspicious?"

"I will ask him, papa, if you wish."

"No, I would have you ask him nothing. I would not wish that there
should be opportunity for such asking. If there has been intimacy
between you, such information should have come naturally,--as a thing
of course. You have made him no promise?"

"Oh no, papa."

"Nor spoken to him--of your regard for him?"

"Never;--not a word. Nor he to me,--except in such words as one
understands even though they say nothing."

"I wish he had never seen you."

"Is he a bad man, papa?"

"Who knows? I cannot tell. He may be ever so bad. How is one to know
whether a man be bad or good when one knows nothing about him?" At
this point the father got up and walked about the room. "The long and
the short of it is that you must not see him any more."

"Did you tell him so?"

"Yes;--well; I don't know whether I said exactly that, but I told him
that the whole thing must come to an end. And it must. Luckily it
seems that nothing has been said on either side."

"But, papa--; is there to be no reason?"

"Haven't I given reasons? I will not have my daughter encourage an
adventurer,--a man of whom nobody knows anything. That is reason
sufficient."

"He has a business, and he lives with gentlemen. He is Everett's
friend. He is well