“I hope you will consider my anxieties, Mr. Sherwin, and let me know the result of your deliberations as soon as possible.”
“Without fail, depend upon it. Let me see: shall we say the second day from this, at the same time, if you can favour me with a visit?”
“Certainly.”
“And between that time and this, you will engage not to hold any communication with my daughter?”
“I promise not, Mr. Sherwin—because I believe that your answer will be favourable.”
“Ah, well—well! lovers, they say, should never despair. A little consideration, and a little talk with my dear girl—really now, won’t you change your mind and have a glass of sherry? (No again?) Very well, then, the day after tomorrow, at five o’clock.”
With a louder crack than ever, the brand-new drawing-room door was opened to let me out. The noise was instantly succeeded by the rustling of a silk dress, and the banging of another door, at the opposite end of the passage. Had anybody been listening? Where was Margaret?
Mr. Sherwin stood at the garden-gate to watch my departure, and to make his farewell bow. Thick as was the atmosphere of illusion in which I now lived, I shuddered involuntarily as I returned his parting salute, and thought of him as my father-in-law!