at once condescending
and conciliatory. He did not imprint a kiss upon her brow, as some
prospective fathers-in-law would have done. But his eyes, perhaps
involuntarily, paid a tribute to her personal appearance which
heightened her color. She might not, after all, be such a discredit to
the Worthington family.

"Won't you sit down?" she asked.

"Thank you, Cynthia," he said; "I hope I may now be allowed to call you
Cynthia?"

She did not answer him, but sat down herself, and he followed her
example; with his eyes still upon her.

"You have doubtless received my letter," began Mr. Worthington. "I only
arrived in Brampton an hour ago, but I thought it best to come to you at
once, under the circumstances."

"Yes," replied Cynthia, "I received the letter."

"I am glad," said Mr. Worthington. He was beginning to be a little taken
aback by her calmness and her apparent absence of joy. It was scarcely
the way in which a school-teacher should receive the advances of the
first citizen, come to give a gracious consent to her marriage with his
son. Had he known it, Cynthia was anything but calm. "I am glad," he
said, "because I took pains to explain the exact situation in that
letter, and to set forth my own sentiments. I hope you understood them."

"Yes, I understood them," said Cynthia, in a low tone.

This was enigmatical, to say the least. But Mr. Worthington had come
with such praiseworthy intentions that he was disposed to believe
that the girl was overwhelmed by the good fortune which had suddenly
overtaken her. He was therefore disposed to be a little conciliatory.

"My conduct may have appeared harsh to you," he continued. "I will not
deny that I opposed the matter at first. Robert was still in college,
and he has a generous, impressionable nature which he inherits from his
poor mother--the kind of nature likely to commit a rash act which
would ruin his career. I have since become convinced that he
has--ahem--inherited likewise a determination of purpose and an ability
to get on in the world which I confess I had underestimated. My friend,
Mr. Broke, has written me a letter about him, and tells me that he has
already promoted him."

"Yes," said Cynthia.

"You hear from him?" inquired Mr. Worthington, giving her a quick
glance.

"Yes," said Cynthia, her color rising a little.

"And yet," said Mr. Worthington, slowly, "I have been under the
impression that you have persistently refused to marry him."

"T