“My poor child!” he said, holding her close. He was glad of it, and yet it hurt him too because it hurt his daughter. At that moment he could almost have called John back, pleased as he was to have him gone. He held her close, patting her softly with his hand, saying nothing till the outburst was over; and then, when he felt her stir in his arms and lean less heavily against him, he bent down and kissed her and spoke.
“My own Kate,” he said, “take your father’s advice for once. Let it be you to make the change, and not him. Let me call poor Huntley and make him happy. You like him, though you may not think it: you have chosen his society more than that of any one here. Do you think I have not watched you? and I know. My dear, your delicacy is wounded, your feelings have had a great shock; but you will soon learn it is for the best, and Fred will make you happier than you ever could have been. Let me call the poor fellow now.”
“No, no, not now,” cried Kate, with her face hidden--“not now. Papa, it is with you I want to stay.”
“With me and with Fred,” said Mr Crediton. “He will be a son to me, Kate. He will not take you away from me. It is what I have wished for years. You will make us both very happy, my darling,” her father went on pleading. “Let me call him now.”
“Oh, papa, let me go! He is out,” said Kate, in a kind of despair, raising herself from his arms. She wanted to get away to be by herself, to think what it all meant, and scarcely knew or understood what she said.
“He cannot be far off. Let me go and find him,” said Mr Crediton; “you would make me so happy, Kate.”
“Oh, papa, don’t kill me!--not now. I would do anything to make you happy; but not now--I cannot bear any more.”
“Then, my darling, I will not press you; but later--when you have had time to think--say at five o’clock; come to me at five o’clock. You have made him very wretched and treated him very badly, and me too; but you will make it up to us, my own Kate?”
“Please let me go,” she said, wearily, drawing herself out of his arms, and making visible a face which was no longer flushed and beautiful, but very pale, scared, marked with tears, and reluctant to face the light.
“You shall go,” said her father, tenderly, leading her to the door. “But remember at five o’clock--promise that you will come at five o’clock.”