Zachary Fay ate his dinner almost without a word. She, though she smiled on him and tried to look contented, found it almost impossible to speak. She uttered some little phrases which she intended to be peculiar to the period of the year; but she felt that her father's mind was intent on what was coming, and she discontinued her efforts. She found it hardly possible to guess at the frame of his mind, so silent had he been since first he had yielded to her when she assured him of her purpose. But she had assured him, and he could not doubt her purpose. If he were unhappy for the moment it was needful that he should be unhappy. There could be no change, and therefore it was well that he should be silent. He had hardly swallowed his dinner when he rose from his chair, and, bringing in his hat from the passage, spoke a word to her before he departed. "I am going into the City, Marion," he said. "I know it is well that I should be absent this afternoon. I shall return to tea. God bless thee, my child." Marion, rising from her chair, kissed his lips and cheeks, and accompanied him to the door. "It will be all well, my father," she said; "it will be all well, and your child will be happy." About half-an-hour afterwards there came a knock at the door, and Marion for a moment thought that her lover was already there. But it was Mrs. Roden who came up to her in the drawing-room. "Am I in the way, Marion?" she asked. "I will be gone in a minute; but perhaps I can say a word first." "Why should you be in the way?" "He is coming." "Yes, I suppose so. He said that he would come. But what if he come? You and he are old friends." "I would not be here to interrupt him. I will escape when we hear the knock. Oh, Marion!" "What is it, Mrs. Roden? You are sad, and something troubles you?" "Yes, indeed. There is something which troubles me sorely. This lover of yours?" "It is fixed, dear friend; fixed as fate. It does not trouble me. It shall not trouble me. Why should it be a trouble? Suppose I had never seen him!" "But you have seen him, my child." "Yes, indeed; and whether that be for good or evil, either to him or to me, it must be accepted. Nothing now can alter that. But I think, indeed, that it is a blessing. It will be something to me to remember that such a one as he has loved me. And for him--" "I would speak now of you, Marion." "I am contented." "It may be, Marion, that in this concerning your health you should be altogether wrong." "How wrong?" "What right have you or I to say that the Lord has determined to shorten your days." "Who has said so?" "It is on that theory that you are acting." "No;--not on that; not on that alone. Were I as strong as are other girls,--as the very strongest,--I would do the same. Has my father been with you?" "Yes, he has."