“I expect there was something in that,” assented Joseline. “They said I was too particular, and all for picking and choosing.”
“Now, supposing you had come across a gentleman wooer?”--and Lord Mulgrave paused interrogatively. (Did he notice that Joseline was very pale?) “I wonder how it would have been? Perhaps you and I would not be sitting here to-day, Joseline. I am thankful that you belong only to me!”
Joseline was conscious that her mind was in a tempestuous state of indecision. Should she speak? Should she disinter and lay before her father, the poor little skeleton of her own romance? Should she or not? After all, there is something that belongs to ourselves. And yet--and yet---- Her large eyes gazed into vacancy.
At last she faltered, in a low and shaken voice, “Well, father, there _was_ some one once. You are right. A gentleman--and--he was--a real gentleman. He went away six years ago, when I was but a young slip of a thing, and it nearly broke my heart. And that’s all.”
“What was his name? Who was he?” he asked under his breath.
“Sure there’s no need to tell ye that, for”--and her face quivered--“I’ll never come across him again.”
She nodded. “There now, I’ve told ye, and ye know all there is to know about me. Promise me ye will never let on.”
“I promise faithfully. Did he give you the red dog?”
“No, he gave him to Mrs. Foley. And now we will never spake of him again.” Here two tears, which had been gathering, fell. “You have me only secret.”
As a servant entered with a telegram and turned up the electric light, her father looked searchingly at Joseline. Her face was white and haggard. “My little girl is tired?” he exclaimed.
“Yes; I feel as if the feet were falling off me. I was standing so long to-day being tried on.”
“Then you must go to bed at once. To-morrow we will do a drive and the theatre. Next day we go home. You are no longer afraid of me, are you, dear?”--and he bent down and kissed the hair over her brow. “You must not. You are my only child; all I have, remember.”
“I will remember, and you will remember”; and she looked up at him with an expression more eloquent than speech. An undivided and implicit trust, spoke in her beautiful eyes.
Although Lord Mulgrave had given Miss Usher a cordial invitation to accompany his daughter to London, that prudent lady excused herself with the plea of one or two engagements in Dublin. She wished to give the father and daughter an opportunity of becoming better acquainted before they joined the family circle. What could be a better occasion than a sea voyage and a railway journey?