Part 41 (2/2)
”I shall act at once,” said he, gazing out the window, abstractedly, as if he had been wounded by an aspersion cast upon his magnanimity.
”Ingrate! Ingrate! all of them!” he mused, drumming on the arm of the chair with his fingers, deep in study over some plan of action. ”Edith, what would you do?” he asked, as he turned his head and looked at her trustfully. ”I have trusted him in his department all these years, and he has given such satisfaction that no one mistrusted his motives, or questioned his integrity. I can hardly believe it, Edith. What would you do?”
”Do you leave it to me?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with suppressed fire.
”I do,” he answered, half seriously; half in jest.
”Then eliminate him, and his dupes, at once,” she answered, with great seriousness.
”It is hard for me to do that of my own volition,” he replied. ”He is so fortified with friends on the board of directorate that they must all be taken into consideration.”
”Will they not see the necessity of his removal, when apprised of the facts?” she asked.
”They may; but he is so strongly entrenched that his removal would be almost disastrous to me.”
”How, papa? How?” she asked, now quickly perceiving a new gleam of the entangling meshes of business a.s.sociates.
”By turning them against me, if the story should turn out to be false,”
he answered, reflectively. ”But I shall lay it before them at once and investigate.”
”In the event that you should remove him, would you bring Mr. Winthrope to your office?” asked Edith, and a tiny flush suffused her cheeks.
”No; Mr. Winthrope must remain in New York,” unthinking of the effect his answer might have on his daughter.
Edith turned a little pale at this response, and her hand trembled in his.
”Why, Edith, are you so much interested in him that you want him to be ever present?” asked the father, noting the tremor of her hand.
”Oh, no, papa--not that much--yes--what am I saying, papa--I don't know,” she replied, excitedly, turning her head at the sound of her mother approaching, which seemed to have been prearranged at that moment; but, of course, was not. Mrs. Jarney left, after seeing the interview was private.
”It appears to me, Edith, that you are acting strangely about this matter,” said her father, beginning to be enlightened.
”Papa, I--I--love him,” she whispered in his ear, as she put her cheek up to his to hide the blushes in her face, and to conceal his own countenance which she expected to see turn into a frown upon her at this unexpected answer. ”Papa, you will forgive me, won't you?--yes, you will. It is my heart, dear papa--I cannot help it--do forgive me?” she went on, with her eyes filled with tears of happiness and weakness and misery over her uncontrollable feelings.
”Let me see your face, Edith?” said her father, making an effort to turn his head, which she held pressed to her own.
”No, no; I won't papa, till you say you will forgive me,” she answered, kissing him.
”To keep peace, Edith, I will forgive you; let me see your face?”
”There!” she exclaimed, suddenly releasing him, and standing off, with tear stains marking through her flushes, and her hair tousled by the performance.
”I believe you,” he said, beholding her in a state of mixed emotions; ”but I am not yet ready to approve of your selection.”
Her heart sank at this answer, and she sank to the floor by his side.
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