He and his daughter, since that day when she made her appeal to him on behalf of Saul, had drawn slowly yet surely nearer together. The change was hardly noticeable at first, though Bride was sensible of an increased gentleness in her father’s manner. But by degrees he came to talk more to her of the things working in his mind, and she began to ask questions of him, which hitherto she had kept locked up in her own heart. Both were the better for the outlet, and began to look forward to the evening hour after dinner, when they sat together in the big drawing-room and spoke of whatever was uppermost in their minds. It was in this way that they came to speak often about the questions of the day, which subject led naturally to that of Eustace and his doings and sayings. Eustace was often a great deal in the minds both of father and daughter just then. He wrote to the Duke regularly, though not frequently, and his letters were always full of interesting information, though this information was not always palatable to the recipient, who was too old to change his attitude of mind, and whilst striving after tolerance and a spirit of justice and impartiality, regarded with something very much like dread the coming strife. “Shall we invite Eustace to spend his Christmas with us this winter?” asked the Duke of his daughter one day towards the latter end of October. Bride glanced at her father, and her cheek crimsoned suddenly. “If--if--you wish it, papa,” she said, with visible hesitancy. The old man glanced at her with a quick searching look. “Does that mean you would not wish it yourself?” “I--I--hardly know. I had not thought of it. Eustace was very kind to me when he was here; but----” Again she faltered in a way that was not much like her, and her father, watching her with a newly awakened interest, said gently-- “I do not wish to distress you, my dear. Perhaps there is something in this that I do not understand. I have no wish to force your confidence. We will say no more about it.” But Bride rose quickly, and came and knelt down beside her father, turning her sweet trustful face up to his. “Papa, do not speak so, please--as though I would not tell you everything in my heart. I think I should like you to know. I did not say anything at first--I did not know whether Eustace might have done so or not, for he went the very same day, and I think just when it happened I could not have talked about it. But before he went he told me that he loved me, and he asked me to be his wife; but I could not, and so he went away; and I do not know whether he will ever come back any more. That is why I do not know what to say about asking him for Christmas.” The Duke was silent for many minutes, stroking Bride’s soft hair with gentle fingers, and looking very thoughtfully into her face. She knelt beside him, only thankful for the caressing touch, which was still sufficiently infrequent to stir her pulses and awaken a sense of indescribable happiness.