Part 24 (2/2)

Marjory raised her voice in a laugh. ” Did I betray myself? Did I become the maiden all forlorn ? Did I giggle to show people that I did not care? No-I did not-I did not. And it was such a long time, daddy! Oh, such a long time! I thought we would never get here. I thought I would never get where I could be alone like this, where I could-cry-if I wanted to. I am not much of - a crier, am I, daddy?

But this time-this-time-”

She suddenly drew herself over near to her father and looked at him. ” Oh, daddy, I want to tell you one thing. just one simple little thing.” She waited then, and while she waited her father's head went lower and lower. ” Of course, you know-I told you once. I love him! I love him! Yes, probably he is a rascal, but, do you know, I don't think I would mind if he was a-an a.s.sa.s.sin. This morning I sent him away, but, daddy, he didn't want to go at all.

I know he didn't. This Nora Black is nothing to him.

I know she is not. I am sure of it. Yes-I am sure of it. * * * I never expected to talk this way to any living creature, but-you are so good, daddy.

Dear old daddy---”

She ceased, for she saw that her father was praying.

The sight brought to her a new outburst of sobbing, for her sorrow now had dignity and solemnity from thebowed white head of her old father, and she felt that her heart was dying amid the pomp of the church.

It was the last rites being performed at the death-bed.

Into her ears came some imagining of the low melan.

choly chant of monks in a gloom.

Finally her father arose. He kissed her on the brow. ” Try to sleep, dear,” he said. He turned out the gas and left the room. His thought was full of chastened emotion.

But if his thought was full of chastened emotion, it received some degree of shock when he arrived in the presence of Mrs. Wainwright. ” Well, what is all this about ? ” she demanded, irascibly. ” Do you mean to say that Marjory is breaking her heart over that man Coleman ? It is all your fault-” She was apparently still ruffled over her exclusion.

When the professor interrupted her he did not speak with his accustomed spirit, but from something novel in his manner she recognised a danger signal.

” Please do not burst out at it in that way.”

”Then it Is true?” she asked. Her voice was a mere awed whisper.

” It is true,” answered the professor.

”Well,” she said, after reflection, ”I knew it. I alway's knew it. If you hadn't been so blind! You turned like a weather-c.o.c.k in your opinions of Coleman.

You never could keep your opinion about him for more than an hour. n.o.body could imagine what you might think next. And now you see the result of it! I warned you! I told you what this Coleman was, and if Marjory is suffering now, you have only yourself to blame for it. I warned you! ”

” If it is my fault,” said the professor, drearily, ” I hope G.o.d may forgive me, for here is a great wrong to my daughter.”

Well, if you had done as I told you-” she began.

Here the professor revolted. ” Oh, now, do not be- gin on that,” he snarled, peevishly. Do not begin on that.”

” Anyhow,” said Mrs. Wainwright, it is time that we should be going down to dinner. Is Marjory com- ing? ”

” No, she is not,” answered the professor, ” and I do not know as I shall go myself.”

” But you must go. Think how it would look!

All the students down there dining without us, and cutting up capers! You must come.”

” Yes,” he said, dubiously, ” but who will look after Marjory ? ”

” She wants to be left alone,” announced Mrs.

Wainwright, as if she was the particular herald of this news. ” She wants to be left alone.”

” Well, I suppose we may as well go down.”

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