How is it in regard to that ?" "I have said no word to her on the subject, Mr.Dinsmore--feeling that the more honorable course was first to ask permission of her mother and yourself--and am by no means certain that she cares for me at all except as a friend of the family and of her cousin, Lieut.Keith.Have I your consent, sir ?" "I will talk with my daughter, captain, and let you know the result." He rose as if to leave the room, but the captain detained him.
"Let me tell you," he said, coloring in spite of himself, "that I am not rich, having very little beside my pay." "That is a matter of small importance," Mr.Dinsmore answered in a kindly tone, "seeing that riches are so apt to take wings and fly away, and that the Master said, 'A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth.' If her mother's wealth remains, Violet will be well provided for, as I presume you are aware, yet I cannot for a moment suppose you capable of seeking her on that account.

In fact," he concluded with a smile, "the child has nothing at all of her own, and her mother can, should she choose, leave her penniless." "And I should be more than willing to take her so, if I could get her," the captain answered, returning the smile; "it would be a dear delight to me to provide her with all things desirable by my own exertions." "Excuse the question, Capt.

Raymond, but have you taken into consideration the fact that Violet's extreme youth must render her unfit for the cares and responsibilities of motherhood to your children ?" "Mr.Dinsmore, there is not a woman in a thousand of those twice her age whom I would as willingly trust.

But she shall have no care or labor that I can save her from, always supposing I can be so happy as to win her for my own." The family had retired for the night to their own apartments.

Mrs.
Travilla, almost ready to seek her couch, sat alone in her dressing-room in front of the brightly blazing wood fire; her open Bible was in her hand, a lamp burning on a little table by the side of her easy-chair.
Her dressing-gown of soft white cashmere became her well, and her unbound hair lying in rich masses on her shoulders lent a very youthful look to face and figure.
Her father thought, as he came softly in and stood at her side, gazing down upon her, that he had seldom seen her more rarely beautiful.
She lifted her eyes to his with the old sweet smile of filial love and reverence, shut her book and laid it on the table.
He laid his hand gently on her head, bent down and kissed her on brow and cheek and lip.
"Dear papa, won't you sit down ?" she said, rising to draw up a chair for him.
"Yes," he answered; "I want a little talk with you.