You understand, my dear, and will excuse an old
man's eccentricities?"
She smiled, rejoicing only in the caressing voice, and in the
yearning, almost fatherly, manner with which he surveyed her.
"I quite understand," said she; "and so will mother."
"Reuther," he now observed with a strange intermixture of
gentleness and authority, "there is one thing I wish to say to you
at the very start. I may grow to love you--God knows that a little
affection would be a welcome change in my life--but I want you to
know and know now, that all the love in the world will not change
my decision as to the impropriety of a match between you and my
son Oliver. That settled, there is no reason why all should not be
clear between us."
"All is clear."
Faint and far off the words sounded, though she was standing so
near he could have laid his hand on her shoulder. Then she gave
one sob as though in saying this she heard the last clod fall upon
what would never see resurrection again in this life, and, lifting
her head, looked him straight in the eye with a decision and a
sweetness which bowed his spirit and caused his head in turn to
fall upon his breast.
"What a father can do for a child, I will do for you," he
murmured, and led her back to her mother, who was now coming down
stairs.
A week, and Deborah Scoville had evolved a home out of chaos. That
is, within limits. There was one door on that upper story which
she had simply opened and shut; nor had she entered the judge's
rooms, or even offered to do so.
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