You cannot confide in your father, my poor, motherless girl, and he cannot blame you," said Sir Lemuel, sadly.
"Father, dear father, I _do_ love you; and I will confide in you," said Salome, earnestly.
For just then a mighty power of faith and love arose in her soul, casting out fear, casting out doubt, subduing pride and reserve.
"What is it, then, my love?
Have you formed any attachment of which you have hesitated to tell me?
Hesitate no longer, my dearest Salome.

Tell me all about it.

It is nothing to be ashamed of.

Love is natural.

Love is holy.