"Oh, papa, papa!" moaned Odalite, pierced through the heart by the thought of how little her father knew of the real character of the man, the real circumstances of the case, and how impossible it was for her to enlighten him.
"Still so grave, my little one? It is of Leonidas you are thinking! Do not fret your tender heart about him, my darling girl! If you, after three years separation from your boyish lover, have changed toward him--of which, in your secluded home, there was about one chance in a hundred of your doing--be sure that he, in his long absence from his childish sweetheart, on his long cruise around the world, has half forgotten the baby girl he left behind--as there must have been a hundred chances to one that he would. I think he will in time be able to console himself with your sister. It is all in the family, you know!" he said, looking down quizzically at the young face by his side.
But, somehow, the expression of that face did not convey the idea of any great satisfaction. Quite the contrary. Odalite looked ready to cry.
"I do believe girls, with their lovers, are like dogs in the manger; they can't marry them all, and yet they are not willing that any other girl should have any of the rejected ones! Sweet angel!--the girl of the nineteenth century!"
"I do not think," murmured Odalite, breaking in upon her father's silent criticism--"I do not think, judging from Le's letters, that he has ever changed toward me. No, papa, I do not wish to justify myself by accusing Le."
"Le's letters, my dear! Why, they afford the strongest proofs to my mind that he is not, and never has been, the least bit in love with you."
"My dear, you have no experience, or you would never mistake Le's practical epistles for love letters. Why, you let all the family read them! You could not if they were love letters."
"Because, my dear, if they were, they would be much too silly to be shown. You would not think so; but you would have sense enough left to know that other people would; and so you would hide them. But Le's letters are laudably practical and fit to be shown to a deacon, as, for instance, this:
"'Tell Beever he can stay on as overseer as long as you please; so he must look out and please you. Tell him I don't know anything about the relative merits of Durham or Alderney breeds of cattle, or Southdown sheep, or anything of that sort. I took my degree at a naval academy, not at an agricultural college. So you just buy what stock you like best, and if you don't know any better than I do, ask your father. He does.'