“Durward,” said Mr. Graham, after they were out of the city, “I have a request to make of you.” “Well.” The answer was very short and it was several minutes ere Mr. Graham again spoke. “You know your mother as well as I do——” “Well.” Another silence, and Mr. Graham continued; “You know how groundlessly jealous she is of me—and it may be just as well for her not to know that——” Here he paused, and Durward finished the sentence for him. “Just as well for her not to know that you’ve spent the afternoon with ’Lena Rivers; is that it?” “That’s it—yes—yes”—answered Mr. Graham, adding, ere Durward had time to utter the angry words which he felt rising within him, “I wish you’d marry ’Lena.” This was so sudden—so different from anything which Durward had expected, that he was taken quite by surprise, and it was some little time ere he answered, “Perhaps I shall.” “I wish you would,” continued Mr. Graham, “I’d willingly give every dollar I’m worth for the privilege of calling her my daughter.” Durward was confounded, and knew not what to think. If his father had an undue regard for ’Lena, why should he wish to see her the wife of another, and that other his son? Was it his better and nobler nature struggling to save her from evil, which prompted the wish? Durward hoped so—he believed so; and the confidence which had so recently been shaken was fully restored, when, by the light of the hall lamp at home, he saw how white and almost ghostly was the face which, ere they entered the drawing-room, turned imploringly upon him, asking him “to be careful.” Mrs. Graham had been in a fit of the sulks ever since the morning of Mrs. Livingstone’s call, and now, though she had not seen her husband for several days, she merely held out her hand, turning her head, meantime, and replying to his questions in a low, quiet kind of a much-injured-woman way, as provoking as it was uncalled for. * * * * * “Father’s suggestion was a good one,” thought Durward, when he had retired to rest. “’Lena is too beautiful to be alone in the world. I will propose to her at once, and she will thus be out of danger.” But what should he do with her? Should he bring her there to Woodlawn, where scarcely a day passed without some domestic storm? No, his home should be full of sunlight, of music and flowers, where no angry word or darkening frown could ever find entrance; and thus dreaming of a blissful future, when ’Lena should be his bride, he fell asleep. CHAPTER XXI. JOEL SLOCUM.