The clerk took my card, entered the door, and closed it after him. I heard a dull murmur of voices within, and then after what appeared to me an interminable wait, he reappeared and silently motioned me in. I hated him for months for that silent gesture. It seemed like Fate. As I entered, a man past middle age with a strong face, a self-contained mouth and jaw, a calm brow, and keen eyes glanced up from a note he was writing and said: "Excuse me a moment if you please. Won't you take a seat?" I sat with the perspiration breaking out as I watched the steady run of his pen over the sheet. I felt as a criminal must who watches the judge preparing to pass sentence. At length he was through. Then he turned to me. "Well, Mr. Glave?" I plunged at once into my subject. "Mr. Leigh, I am a young lawyer here, and I have come to ask your permission to pay my addresses to your daughter." "Wha-t!" His jaw positively fell, he was so surprised. But I did not give him time. "I have no right to ask it--to ask any favor of you, much less a favor which I feel is the greatest any man can ask at your hands. But I--love her--and--I--I simply ask that you will give me your consent to win her if I can." I was very frightened, but my voice had steadied me, and I was gazing straight in his eyes. "Does my daughter know of this extraor--of this?" He asked the question very slowly, and his eyes were holding mine. "I hardly know what she may divine. I told her once that I thought a gentleman should not--should not try to marry a gir--a lady until he had asked her father's permission, and she is so clear-minded that I hardly know----" "Does she know of your attachment?" "Yes, sir. I mean, I told her once--I----" "I thought you said you thought a gentleman had no right to speak to her until he had gained her father's consent!" A slight scorn had crept into his face. "Yes, sir, I did--something like that, though not quite that--but----" "How then do you reconcile the two?" He spoke calmly, and I observed a certain likeness to his daughter. "I do not--I cannot. I do not try. I only say that in my cooler moments my principle is stronger than my action. I gave way to my feelings once, and declared myself, but when I got hold of myself I felt I should come to you and give you some account of myself." "I see." I began to hope again, as he reflected. "Does my daughter reciprocate this--ah--attachment? "No, sir. I wish to God she did; but I hope that possibly in time--I might prevail on her by my devotion." I was stammering along awkwardly enough. "Ah!"