sensations towards you have undergone no change since that night. If
it had happened that I disliked you, I should not have allowed the
fact to bias my judgment as to whether or not you were a suitable
husband for my daughter, but it would not have taken me two weeks
to make up my mind. As it is I have merely delayed my consent as an
unnecessary formality; but perhaps the time has come to say in so many
words that I shall be very glad to give my daughter to you."

"Thank you," said Dartmouth. The words sounded rather bald, but it
was an unusual situation, and he did not know exactly what to say.
Something more was evidently expected of him, however, and he plunged
in recklessly: "I am sure I need not say that I am highly honored
by your regard and your confidence, nor protest that you will never
regret it. To tell you that I loved Weir with all my heart would be
trite, and perhaps it is also unnecessary to add that I am not a man
of 'veering passions'--that is, of course when my heart is engaged as
well."

Sir Iltyd smiled. "I should imagine that the last clause was added
advisedly. I was a man of the world myself in my young days, and
I recognize one in you. Judging from your physiognomy and general
personality I should say that you have loved a good many women, and
have lived in the widest sense of the word."

"Well--yes," admitted Dartmouth, with a laugh. "That sort of thing
leaves a man's heart untouched, however."

"It may, and I am willing to believe that you have given your heart to
Weir for good and all."