Her dazed father-in-law sat watching her, noting her wonderful grace and charm, recalling what his son had said to him the day of their bitter quarrel. In his weakness and loneliness, the old love, smothered under anger, seemed to surge upward again and flood his whole being with tenderness for his son. But he called pride to his aid, lest she should see too quickly, this lovely suppliant, how the ice was melting around his heart. “Tell me,” he said, and his voice sounded stern and harsh in her ears, “tell me all about yourself and Charley--how you first met, how love grew between you until he forgot his troth to Rosalind. Begin at the beginning; leave nothing unsaid.” Berenice obeyed, nothing loath, for it pleased her to recall everything connected with Charley, and she left nothing untold from the hour of their first meeting until now. Senator Bonair, resting easily, with half-closed eyes, did not miss a word of her story, nor an expression of her radiant face that glowed with happy blushes as she told her tale of love. He sighed heavily, and turning to her as she ended her story, remarked: “It would make a pretty novel, this love story of yours and Charley’s, and I should not have found much fault with it if Rosalind had been left out of it, but her wrongs made me indignant, caused all my bitterest anger against you both.” “It was sad,” replied Berenice, “that she should suffer for our happiness--very hard. But it was better for Charley to tell her the truth frankly, as he did, and ask for his release.” “Yes, I agree with you on the latter point, but Rosalind denies that Charley ever asked for a release. She claims that she was betrothed to him all the while, and her mortification was so extreme that to palliate my son’s offense I----” he paused and bit his lips, but Berenice finished the sentence for him: “You threw yourself into the breach, with your high sense of honor, and offered to heal the wound by marrying her yourself, thus still making her prospective heiress of the Bonair millions, the high stakes for which she was playing.” He quickly took up the cudgel in Rosalind’s defense. “Hush! she is not mercenary. I am sure she loved my son dearly, and can never give me but a tame affection. If I believed Rosalind unworthy of my respect and love, I could sooner forgive my son’s perfidy. For I must own you are a very charming little lady!” exclaimed the senator frankly. She smiled up at him gratefully. “Not little lady--little daughter,” she pleaded. “Little daughter, then,” he amended smilingly, and felt his heart thrill warmly at the word. “I thank you a hundred times!” she cried, blushing with joy, and adding: “Now I know you will forgive Charley and call him son.” He answered gravely: “Do you think if I will forgive him and receive him again he will be content with that? For you know I have disinherited him out of justice to Rosalind, whom I am to marry.”