Once she lifted her eyes with a piteous look to her father's face; but he was smoking his pipe solemnly, with his gaze fixed upon the blazing logs in the grate, and contrived not to see that mute despairing appeal.

He had not looked at his daughter once since Stephen Whitelaw's arrival, nor had he made any attempt to prepare her for this visit, this rapid consummation of the sacrifice.
"Come, Miss Carley," said the former rather impatiently, after there had been a dead silence of some minutes, "I want to get an answer direct from your own lips.

Your father hasn't been deceiving me, has he ?" "No," Ellen said in a low voice, almost as if the reply were dragged from her by some physical torture.

"If my father has given you a promise for me, I will keep it.

But I don't want to deceive you, on my part, Mr.
Whitelaw," she went on in a somewhat firmer tone.