ing on?"
"I think I must have begun to love your daughter from the first hour in
which I saw her; but I think the growth of the interest was so gradual
that I was not conscious of it until it was too late."
"When you put it to me as a hypothetical case, whether, if my daughter's
happiness were involved in some other marriage, I would consent to forego
my cherished plan of marrying her to her cousin, had you this case of
yours and hers in view?"
"Not consciously. But we are such 'self-deceivers ever' that I may have
had this at the bottom of my heart."
"My girl has been looking ill and out of spirits lately. Poor child!" said
the father, reflectively. "Now, is her loss of bloom and cheerfulness
caused by this affair between you?"
"I will tell you as truly as I can what has been on her mind," said the
colonel, with a show of the most perfect candor. "She is struggling
between her sense of duty to you and her affection for me. She thinks she
ought to marry the young midshipman because you have set your heart on her
doing so; and yet she does not wish to marry any one except your unworthy
servant here present. This terrible struggle has been too much for her.
Yesterday I proposed that we should end it all by coming to you, making a
full confession for both of us, and leaving our fate in your hands."
"It is a terrible shock! a terrible shock! Have you spoken to her
mother?"
"Yes; but she very properly referred me to you."
There was a pause of some moments, during which Mr. Force arose from his
seat and walked uneasily up and down the whole length of the drawing room
several times. Finally he stopped before the colonel, and said:
"Anglesea, this has been so sudden--so utterly unexpected--that I feel
bewildered by it all. I cannot trust myself to give you an answer this
morning. I must have a talk with her mother--yes, and with herself. I must
try and get at the bottom of this change of sentiment in my daughter. I
must leave you now."
"I thank you, Force, for the indulgence with which you have heard me. I
feel like a very villain to have come into your house, accepted your
princely hospitality and used the opportunity and abused the trust so
viciously as to have won the heart of your daughter, and to have
disappointed all your cherished hopes of another alliance for her. All I
can say is----"
"Say no more, my dear Anglesea. These things cannot be prevented. 'The
demands of the heart are absolute.' The f
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