"Papa, you draw nice distinctions," I said half laughing.

"That would be simple presumption, not modesty; this is manliness."

We were both silent upon this; papa considering the letter, or its proposal; I thinking of Mr. Thorold's manliness, and feeling very much pleased that he had shown it and papa had discerned it so readily. The silence lasted till I began to be curious.

"What shall we do now, Daisy?" papa said at last. I left him to answer his own question.

"Hey? What do you wish me to do?"

"Papa, - I hope you will give him a kind answer."

"How can I get it to him?"

"I can enclose it to an aunt of his, whom I know. She can get it to him. She lives in New York."

"His aunt? So you know his family?

"No one of them, papa, but this one; his mother's sister."

"What sort of a person is she?"

So I sat down and told papa about Miss Cardigan. He listened with a very grave, thoughtful face; asking few questions, but kissing me. And then, without more ado, he turned to the table and wrote a letter, writing very fast, and handed it to me. It was all I could have asked that it might be. My heart filled with grateful rest.

"Will that do?" said papa as I gave it back.

"Papa, only one thing more, - if you are willing, that we should sometimes write to each other?"

"Hm - that sounds moderate," said papa. "By the way, why was not this letter written and sent sooner? What is the date? - why, Daisy! -"

"What, papa?"

"My child, this letter, - it is a good year old, and more; written in the beginning of last winter."

It took me a little while to get the full bearings of this; then I saw that it dated back to a time quite anterior to the circ.u.mstances of Faustina St. Clair's story, whatever that amounted to. Papa was all thrown back.

"This is good for nothing, now, you see, Daisy."

"Oh, no, papa."

"For the purposes of action."

"Papa, it does not matter, the date."

"Yes, Daisy, it does; for it speaks of a man of last year, and my answer would go to a man of this year."

"They are not different men, papa."

"I must be a.s.sured of that." He was folding up his letter, his own, and I saw the next thing would be to throw it into the fire. I laid my hand over his.

"Papa, don't do that. Let me have it."

"I cannot send it."

"Papa, let me have it. I will send it to Miss Cardigan - she loves me almost as well as you do - I will tell her; and if there is any truth in mamma's story, Miss Cardigan will know and she will burn the letter, just as well as you. And so you would escape doing a great wrong."

"You may be mistaken, my child."

"Then Miss Cardigan will burn the letter, papa. I can trust her."

"Can _I_ trust her?"

"Yes, papa, through me. Please let me have it. There shall come no harm from this, papa."

"Daisy, your mother says he is engaged to this girl."

"It is a mistake, papa."

"You cannot prove it, my child."

"Time will."

"Then will be soon enough for my action."

"But papa, in the mean time? - think of the months he has been waiting already for an answer -"

I suppose the tears were in my eyes, as I pleaded, with my hand still upon papa's hand, covering the papers. He slowly drew his hand away, leaving the letter under mine.

"Well!" - said he, - "do as you will."

"You are not unwilling, papa?"

"I am a little unwilling, Daisy; but I cannot deny you, child.

I hope you are right."

"Then, papa, add that one word about letters, will you?"

"And if it is all undeserved?"

"It is not, papa."

Papa set his teeth for a moment, with a look which, however, wonted perhaps in his youthful days, I had very rarely seen called up in him. It pa.s.sed then, and he wrote the brief word I had asked for, of addition to his letter, and gave it to me; and then took me in his arms and kissed me again.

"You are not very wise in the world, my Daisy," he said; "and men would say I am not. But I cannot deny you. Guard your letter to Miss Cardigan. And for the present all this matter shall sleep in our own bosoms."

"Papa," I asked, "how much did mamma know - I mean - how much did she hear about me that was true?"

"It was reported that you had been engaged."

"She heard that."