Part 16 (1/2)
He jumped up too, caught her by the hand, and led her to the sofa.
”Now, now,” he said kindly; ”sit down and tell me all about it.”
She looked at him in fresh amazement.
”All about what?”
He found it a little difficult to explain precisely what he meant. He only knew that he felt an unwonted expansion of his heart towards this really charming little daughter.
”All about the weather and crops,” he suggested playfully.
Jean began to tremble a little.
”I--I don't understand you at all,” said she.
He smiled pleasantly.
”Am I such a very mysterious old fellow?”
At this odd and novel mixture of kindness and queerness she felt her words choking her, as much with fear as anything.
”We--we never have understood each other,” she found herself saying.
He looked startled.
”What? You don't mean to say you--But I'm your father.”
”I suppose that's the reason.”
”I have always tried to do my duty.”
”The trouble is, you succeeded.”
”What!” he exclaimed. ”Do you actually mean to say you--ah--didn't appreciate my duty?”
She was sitting by his side on the sofa, her eyes downcast and her lips obstinately set. Never before in her life had she stood up to him like this, but now that she had begun she was discovering to her surprise that she had more of her father's temper than she had dreamt of.
”No,” she said. ”I didn't sometimes.”
Instead of getting angry, Mr. Walkingshaw seemed merely astonished and interested.
”Perhaps it was the way I did it,” he suggested.
She looked up quickly.
”Yes,” she answered.
”Well, my dear, I have lately discovered that I shall never be too old to learn. Just tell me how you'd like to be treated, and I'll try to manage it. I am very fond of you, Jean.”
Her mouth lost its obstinacy; her eyes and voice grew kind.