“Where are you going?” he asked, imperiously. But John had begun to tell his tale without waiting to be questioned. “I am on my way to Fernwood,” he said, “to let you know. Mr Crediton, Kate is with my mother.” And then there was a pause, and the two looked into each other’s faces. They confronted each other in the midst of the most ordinary prose of life, one the victor, the other the vanquished, with supreme triumph on one side and mortification on the other. John could afford to be friendly and humble, being the conqueror, but Mr Crediton in the darkness set his teeth. “Well,” he said, with a long-drawn breath, “things being as they are, perhaps on the whole that is best.” “Mr Crediton,” said John, “you cannot expect me to say I am sorry. God knows how happy and proud I am; but yet I can understand how you should be reluctant to give her to me----” “Reluctant!” cried her father, between his set teeth; and then he stopped short, and made a supreme effort. “What are you going to do?” he said. “Your train is just starting--unless I can offer you a bed for the night.” “Will not you come to Fanshawe with me?” “It is useless now. I am glad she is safe--that was all I wanted to know,” said Kate’s father, with a thrill of pain in his voice. He stood still a moment longer, gazing blankly at John without seeing him, and then added, “Of course after this there is nothing more to be said.” “I think not,” said John, humbly. It is so easy to be humble when one has the victory. He looked wistfully at his adversary, longing to say something friendly, something comforting. “There is nothing in the world I would not do for her happiness,” he added. “I would have given her up; but I thank God that is over now.” “Of course it is over,” said Mr Crediton. “If you choose to return to the bank different arrangements shall be made. Of course I have nothing for it but to acquiesce now;” and he turned away his head and stood mute, in an attitude which went to John’s heart. “I am sorry you don’t like me,” he said, involuntarily; “but when you see her happy--as please God she shall be happy----” “That will do,” said Mr Crediton, waving his hand; “you will lose your train--good-night.” He turned and moved a few steps away and then came back again. “If your mother will be so good as to bring up my child to me as soon as she is able--to-morrow if she is able--I shall be much obliged to her; and in the morning, if you like, I shall be glad to see you at the bank.” “I will come,” said John; and then he asked more humbly than ever, “Will you send no message to Kate?”