Part 31 (1/2)
”And do you know what young girls should, and generally do, think about, when they come to be of that age?”
Kate either affected or felt profound ignorance of the answer she was expected to make.
”Come!” said Mr Vaughan, banteringly, ”you know what I mean, Catherine?”
”Indeed, papa, I do not. You know I keep no secrets from you; you taught me not. If I had any, I would tell them to you.”
”I know you're a good girl, Kate. I know you would. But that is a sort of secret I should hardly expect you to declare--even to me, your father.”
”Pray what is it, papa?”
”Why, at your age, Kate, most girls--and it is but right and natural they should--take to thinking about a young man.”
”Oh! that is what you mean! Then I can answer you, papa, that I _have_ taken to thinking about one.”
”Ha!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr Vaughan, in a tone of pleased surprise; ”you have, have you?”
”Yes, indeed,” answered Kate, with an air of the most innocent _naivete_. ”I have been thinking of one--and so much, that he is scarce ever out of my mind.”
”Ha!” said the Custos, repeating his exclamation of surprise, and rather taken aback by a confession so unexpectedly candid. ”Since how long has this been, my child?”
”Since how long?” rejoined Kate, musingly.
”Yes. When did you first begin to think of this young man?”
”Oh! the day before yesterday, after dinner--ever since I first saw him, father.”
”_At_ dinner you first saw him,” said Mr Vaughan, correcting his daughter. ”But, no matter for that,” he continued, gleefully rubbing his hands together, and not noticing the puzzled expression upon Kate's countenance. ”It might be, that you did not think of him in the first moments of your introduction. It's not often people do. A little bashfulness has to be got over. And so then, Kate, you like him now-- you think you like him now?”
”Oh! father, you may be sure I do--better than any one I ever saw-- excepting yourself, dear papa.”
”Ah! my little chit, that's a different sort of liking--altogether different. The one's love--the other is but filial affection--each very well in its place. Now, as you're a good girl, Kate, I have a bit of pleasant news for you.”
”What is it, papa?”
”I don't know whether I should tell you or not,” said the Custos, playfully patting his daughter upon the cheek; ”at least, not now, I think. It might make you too happy.”
”Oh, papa! I have told you what you wished me; and I see it has made you happy. Surely you will not conceal what you say will do the same for me? What is the news?”
”Listen, then, Kate!”
Mr Vaughan bending forward, as if to make his communication more impressive, p.r.o.nounced in a whisper:--
”He reciprocates your feeling--_he likes you_!”
”Father, I fear he does not,” said the young Creole, with a serious air.
”He does--I tell you so, girl. He's over head and ears in love with you. I know it. In fact, I saw it from the first minute. A blind man might have perceived it; but then a blind man can see better than a young lady that's in love. Ha! ha! ha!”
Loftus Vaughan laughed long and loudly at the jest he had so unexpectedly perpetrated: for at that moment he was in the very mood for merriment. His dearest dream was about to be realised. Montagu Smythje was in love with his daughter. That he knew before. Now his daughter had more than half admitted--in fact, quite confessed--that she liked Smythje; and what was _liking_ but _love_?