"You can see them tomorrow, sir--early in the morning--if you would be
so kind to Lucy and myself, we should be very grateful--what time can
you see them tomorrow?"

"You go too fast, sir. I cannot see either of them tomorrow, nor yet for
many tomorrows."

"Oh, sir, Lucy loves me and I love her, and----"

"Love must learn to wait--to be patient and to be satisfied with hopes.
I am weary, and we will bid you good night."

There was something so definite and positive in this good night that
Harry felt it to be irresistible, and with an air of disappointment made
his departure. At the outer door Lugur said, "I do not lack sympathy
with you, Mr. Hatton, in your desire to hurry your marriage forward, but
you must understand that there will be necessary delays. If you cannot
bear the strain of waiting and of patiently looking forward, you are
mistaken in the quality of your love and you had better give it up at
once."

"No, sir. Right or wrong, it is my love, and Lucy is the only woman who
will ever bring joy or sorrow to me."

Lugur did not answer, but his tall, dark figure standing with his hand
on the half-shut door impressed Harry painfully with the hopelessness of
further argument. He bowed silently, but as he passed through the little
gate the sound of the hastily closed door followed him up the hill to
Hatton Hall. Lugur went into the parlor to look for his daughter; she
had gone to her room. Some feeling of maidenly reserve had led her to