"Father," said Betty Annesley at the dinnertable that same night, "I
have engaged a new groom. He rode Pirate to-day and thoroughly mastered
him."
"Pirate? You don't say! Well, I'm glad of that. Pirate will make a
capital saddle-horse if he is ridden often enough. The groom will be a
safe companion for you on your rides. Are you too tired to do some
drawing for me to-night?"
"The fortification plans?"
"Yes." His eyes wandered from her face to the night outside. How gray
and sad the world was! "You will always love your father, dearie?"
"Love him? Always!"
"Whatever betide, for weal or woe?"
"Whatever betide."
How easy it was for her to say these words!
"And yet, some day, you must leave me, to take up your abode in some
other man's heart. My only wish is that it may beat for you as truly as
mine does."
She did not reply, but stepped to the window and pressed her brow to
the chilled pane. A yellow and purple line marked the path of the
vanished sun; the million stars sparkled above; far away she could see
the lights of the city. Of what was she thinking, dreaming? Was she
dreaming of heroes such as we poets and novelists invent and hang upon
the puppet-beam? Ah, the pity of these dreams the young girl has! She
dreams of heroes and of god-like men, and of the one that is to come.
But, ah! he never comes, he never comes; and the dream fades and dies,
and the world becomes real. A man may find his ideal, but a woman,
never. To youth, the fields of love; to man, the battle-ground; to old
age, a chair in the sunshine and the wreck of dreams!
"The government ought to pay you well if those plans are successful."
She moved away from the window.
"Yes, the government ought to pay me well. I should like to make you
rich, dearie, and happy."
"Why, daddy, am I not both? I have more money than I know what to do
with, and I am happy in having the kindest father." She came around the
table and caressed him, cheek to cheek. "Money isn't everything. It
just makes me happy to do anything for you."
His arm grew tense around her waist.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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