"Ah!" cried the old man fiercely, under his breath--"a fortune-hunter,
on my life! the danger is nearer than I had even apprehended!"
"No, father, no! He is as far as possible from being what you say!"
fervently exclaimed Sybil.
"He is wealthy, then?"
"No, no, no! he is poor in everything but in goodness and wisdom!"
"Oh, no doubt you think him rich in these! But who is he, unhappy child?
What is his name?"
Very subdued came the answer. Old Bertram was obliged to bend his gray
head to his daughter's lips, and put his shrivelled hand behind his ear
to catch the sound of her low voice.
"He is the young lawyer newly settled in Blackville, whose praise is on
everybody's lips."
"JOHN LYON HOWE!" exclaimed the old man, throwing up his head in
astonishment.
"Yes, father," breathed the girl.
"And he loves you?"
She nodded.
"And you love him?"
She nodded again.
"A briefless young lawyer, with a long list of impoverished brothers and
sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins! Bad enough; but not as it might
have been. She can gain nothing by that connection! But then she need
not lose anything either," murmured the old man to himself. After
reflecting for a few moments, with his head upon his breast, he suddenly
raised his eyes and exclaimed: "But I have never seen the young man at this house!"
"No, father!"
"Nor at any other house where we visit."
"No, father; for although he receives many invitations to visit his
friends, he accepts none. Father, I think he cannot afford to do so."
"Cannot afford to visit! Why?"
"Visiting requires dress, and dress money. And he does so much
gratuitous work now in the beginning of his career that he has but
little money; and his father will not help him at all, because they
differ in politics."
"Yes, I know they do; but the young man is quite right. I agree with his
views perfectly. He will make his mark in the world some of these days,
and then his father will be proud of him."
Sybil blushed with delight to hear her lover so praised by one in whose
hands their happiness rested.
"But, my child, he was wrong and you were wrong to have entered into any
engagement without my sanction," said the old man very gravely.
"There is no engagement, father," gently answered Sybil.
"Ah! no engagement? that is well! By my soul, though, it was not right
for him even to have wooed you without my consent! Nor can I conceive
what opportunity he has ever had to do so. He never comes here."
"He has never wooed me, dear father."
"EH!"
"He has never sought my hand."