He spoke diffidently, yet eagerly and with superb manliness, his dark-blue eyes shining with hope, his cheek glowing with honest pride that he had so much to offer to the lady of his choice. Without vanity, he knew that he was, in worldly parlance, an eligible _parti_. No thought of refusal crossed his mind. Yet Everard Dawn was slow in replying to what many might have considered a compliment. His eyes rested steadily and gravely on Cinthia’s lover, while his cheek paled to an ashen hue, and the hand that rested on his knee trembled as with an ague chill. Arthur Varian noticed these signs of deep agitation, and attributed them to parental love. He added, gently: “It seems cruel to harass you, almost in the first moment of your return, with this matter; but it is not as if I proposed taking Cinthia away from you immediately. We had planned for a Christmas wedding.” “This is the first of November, Mr. Varian,” he reminded him, coldly. “Yes, sir; so it would be almost two months before I took Cinthia away,” smilingly. “My daughter is too young to marry yet. I came home to place her at a convent school in Canada for two years, not dreaming that she had notions of lovers in her childish head,” Everard Dawn continued, gravely. “You see, sir, we have made other plans,” said Arthur, lightly, not taking him _au serieux_. To his surprise, Mr. Dawn answered, frigidly: “Of course, those plans made without my consent do not carry.” Arthur began to grow excited by the portentous gravity of the other. He exclaimed, almost pleadingly: “Mr. Dawn, you do not surely mean that you will make me wait two years for Cinthia?” And to his utter horror and despair, the gentleman replied slowly, sadly, and gravely, as if every word cost him a pang: “No, I do not wish you to wait for Cinthia, Arthur Varian, for the truth may as well be known to you first as last, cruel as it must seem at first. Believe me, I am sorry for your disappointment, and I hope your fancy for Cinthia has not taken very deep root, for--she can never be your wife.” “Mr. Dawn!” Arthur Varian sprung to his feet, and faced the speaker, with such a grief and amazement on his handsome face as might have melted the sternest heart. “Mr. Dawn, you can not surely mean this refusal! What reasons could exist for deliberately wrecking two fond, loving hearts?” “Unfortunately, the reasons exist; but such as they are, I can not explain them, Mr. Varian.” Arthur cried out, eagerly: “If you are offended at my impatience to claim Cinthia for my own, I will agree to wait the two years you mentioned, or even more. Nay, so deep and constant is my love, that I would rather serve seven years for her, as Jacob did for Rachel, than lose the dear hope of winning her at last for my own.” Everard Dawn rose from his chair, and grasping the back, to still the great trembling of his frame, answered, with passionate energy: