"Not at all." "He was not killed?" "It wasn't him as was hurt, Mr. Fay. It was another of them young men--one Mr. Walker; only son of Watson, Walker, and Warren. And whether he be dead or alive nobody knows; but they do say there wasn't a whole bone left in his body. It's all here, and I was a-going to bring it you. I suppose Miss Fay did take it badly?" "I knew the young man," said the Quaker, hurrying back to his own house with the paper,--anxious if possible not to declare to the neighbourhood that the young lord was in truth a suitor for his daughter's hand. "And I thank thee, Mrs. Grimley, for thy care. The suddenness of it all frightened my poor girl." "That'll comfort her up," said Mrs. Grimley cheerily. "From all we hear, Mr. Fay, she do have reason to be anxious for this young lord. I hope he'll be spared to her, Mr. Fay, and show himself a true man." Then the Quaker returned with his news,--which was accepted by him and by them all as trustworthy. "Now my girl will be happy again?" "Yes, father." "But my child has told the truth to her old father at last." "Had I told you any untruth?" "No, indeed, Marion." "I said that I am not fit to be his wife, and I am not. Nothing is changed in all that. But when I heard that he was--. But, father, we will not talk of it now. How good you have been to me, I shall never forget,--and how tender!" "Who should be soft-hearted if not a father?" "They are not all like you. But you have been always good and gentle to your girl. How good and how gentle we cannot always see;--can we? But I have seen it now, father." As he went into the City, about an hour after his proper time, he allowed his heart to rejoice at the future prospects of his girl. He did now believe that there would be a marriage between her and her noble lover. She had declared her love to him,--to him, her father, and after that she would surely do as they would have her. Something had reached even his ears of the coyness of girls, and it was not displeasing to him that his girl had not been at once ready to give herself with her easy promise to her lover. How strong she had looked, even in the midst of her sufferings, on the previous evening! That she should be weaker this morning, less able to restrain her tears, more prone to tremble as he spoke to her, was but natural. The shock of the grief will often come after the sorrow is over. He knew that, and told himself that there need be nothing,--need not at least be much,--to fear.