“On the next day I went down to the sitting room we three occupied in common. I certainly did not expect to find you there, Abel Force; yet there you were, looking a little graver than usual, but otherwise behaving as if nothing unusual had been said or done. You bade me good-morning, handed me a chair, and inquired after my health. “Well, though to my surprise I found you in our sitting room that morning, I certainly expected you to leave our party on the first opportunity. But you did not. You remained with us and traveled with us as before. “I shrank from speaking to my father on the subject, yet at length I summoned courage to ask him if he had given my answer to you. He replied that he had, and that you had said you could wait and hope. “We spent the autumn together, as we had spent the summer; yet, Abel, we were not happy, and as the time for our return to England and your return to America approached, and we were to separate to meet no more in this world, we both grew more and more miserable. As for me, my heart seemed wasting to death. “One day in November my father came to me, and said: “‘Elfrida, do you consider me a man of honor, or not?’ “‘My dear father, what a question!’ was all that I could answer. “‘But tell me, do you consider me a man of honor? Yes, or no!’ “‘Yes, my dear father; yes. A man of the most perfect and most unquestionable honor,’ I replied. “‘Good! Then perhaps you will believe me and act upon my words. Elfrida, Mr. Force has this morning begged me to speak for him again. Again he offers you his hand.’ “‘Well, my dear father?’ “‘Well, Elfrida, he loves you, and you know it. You love him, and he knows it. You are both dying for each other, and I know that.’ “‘Well, my dear father?’ I said again. “‘Have pity on him and on yourself, and accept his suit.’ “‘But, my past—my past—which I can never tell him—never! I could die first.’ “‘Elfrida, do you believe your father to be a man of honor?’ he inquired, for the third time. “‘Dear sir, how can you ask me? I have said, “a man of indubitable honor,”’ I replied. “‘Very well, then. On the truth of a man, on the honor of a peer, on the faith of a Christian, I swear to you, Elfrida, that you may marry Force without telling him one word of your past trouble,’ he said to me, so solemnly that I could not question him. I could only receive his words on the high and sacred ground on which he had spoken them. “Oh, Abel! was I wrong? “‘I am now going to send Force to see you,’ he repeated, as he left the room.