"I keep you waiting. I am glad to see
you this morning, sir. From my daughter I learn that you have returned
from a somewhat successful journey--that matters seem to mend for you.
We are all pleased to learn it. I offer you my hand, sir. My daughter
has advised me of her decision and your own. Your conduct throughout,
Mr. Cowles, has been most manly, quite above reproach. I could want no
better son to join my family." His words, spoken in ignorance, cut me
unbearably.
"Colonel Sheraton," I said to him, "there is but one way for a man to
ride, and that is straight. I say to you; my conduct has not been in the
least above reproach, and your daughter has not told you all that she
ought to have told."
We had entered the great dining room as we talked, and he was drawing me
to his great sideboard, with hospitable intent to which at that moment I
could not yield. Now, however, we were interrupted.
A door opened at the side of the room, where a narrow stairway ran down
from the second floor, and there appeared the short, stocky figure, the
iron gray mane, of our friend, Dr. Samuel Bond, physician for two
counties thereabout, bachelor, benefactor, man of charity, despite his
lancet, his quinine and his calomel.
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