Wilton made a sharp and curt remark upon the engagement which had so long detained him from complying with his request for an interview, but he expressed his gratification that it had not wholly prevented him from presenting himself.
The Colonel saw that something had happened, and excused himself by stating that the servant who had conveyed to him the message, had given him no intimation that Wilton desired the interview to be immediate.
“As it is calculated to have a material influence upon my future peace, it is one which cannot commence too early, nor close too soon,” Wilton exclaimed, as he motioned Colonel Mires to a seat, which he accepted. Wilton then proceeded--
“I have a daughter, Colonel Mires, almost at a marriageable age.”
Colonel Mires’ face flushed crimson, as Wilton’s bright eye met his. He only bowed, however, wondering what this observation was to prelude, especially as he could see that the old man was trembling with strong excitement.
“That daughter, as you are aware, Colonel Mires,” continued Wilton, “is my favourite child, the gift of wedded love, the most beautiful among her sex--the ‘Flower of my Flock.’ I had designed a certain position for her. I had bound myself to its fulfilment by a vow. I have through the greatest trials and worst vicissitudes cherished it, and now, when upon the verge of its consummation, I find my purpose retarded, flung back by an event as unlooked for as it is most untoward.”
“Yes, sir, indeed. Mark me, Colonel Mires, I am fully acquainted with my daughter’s temperament, her inclinings, every phase of her gentle disposition; I am fully convinced that she has no guile, would not cast about her to find a man to love, to bestow her heart upon, in the ultimate hope of following up the gift with that of her hand. It is not her nature; she must be wooed to be won.”
“That I believe,” exclaimed Colonel Mires, with some little emphasis.
“Of course,” responded Wilton. “Now let me inform you, sir, if you know it not already, she has been wooed, sir, and won; surreptitiously wooed, and stealthily, fraudulently won.”
The face of Colonel Mires changed colour like a chameleon; he knitted his brows, and bent an almost fierce gaze upon Wilton.