“However that may be, my father insists that you seek my hand _only_ with your uncle’s sanction. And now, Ronald, I must be brief in what I have to say to you, for some one may come in at any moment. It is this, dear Ronald: Submit to my father’s terms patiently. He loves you as well as me, and he would not do anything that he did not believe would be for your good as well as for mine.” “I wish to the Lord in heaven that people would mind their own business and leave us and our good alone!” vehemently exclaimed the vexed lover. “Ronald! Ronald! How can you say such things in reference to father? He has a right to be obeyed by his own daughter and in his own house! But listen, dear Ronald, for this is what I wished to say to you: _Be patient_. I am convinced that all will soon be well.” “Em., my dearest, what do you mean by that? Have you——” But before the young man could utter another word John Palmer entered the room, bid his guest a cordial good-morning, and invited him to walk in to breakfast, which was waiting for them. Ronald returned the greeting, and then openly gave Em. his arm and took her in to breakfast. They no longer treated the young lieutenant as a stranger, so all the family were assembled around the table, only waiting for his entrance to take their seats. After greetings had been exchanged they sat down. Susan dispensed the tea and coffee; John the broiled venison steaks; and Em. the buckwheat cakes. Love had not taken away the young man’s appetite, for he did full justice to the food set before him. When breakfast was over he took leave of his kind hostess and her family, gave Em.’s hand a prolonged squeeze, and, attended to the yard by John Palmer, went out and mounted his horse and started for The Breezes, wondering as he rode slowly away what Em. could have meant by her cheerful prophecy that all would soon be well. CHAPTER XXII HOPE Hope bids me hope! In that consoling word Is peace and comfort to my soul restored. None without hope has loved the brightest fair. For love can hope where reason would despair. LORD LYTTLETON. “Did you ask that young gentleman not to visit here again? Did you put him on his honor not to come?” anxiously inquired Susan Palmer of her husband as he re-entered the kitchen after seeing his guest off. “Well,” said honest John, hesitating and looking down, “to tell you the plain truth, Susan, I didn’t.” “You didn’t!” “No: I have been trying to tell him all yesterday and this morning, but he was so very kind and pleasant all the while that I hadn’t a chance to break in anywhere, even edgeways, to say he must never come back again. Well, I hadn’t the heart to do it—there! Why, I coud as soon have struck a friend in the face while he was smiling up into mine.”