"We can all die for those we love, but
few of us can live for them--go on living a life which has to be
moulded to a plan, bent on another's will--Could you do that?"
"Yes," he said, after a pause. "There is no sacrifice I would not make
for my father's sake; but"--he laughed and cleared the gravity from his
brow--"all the sacrifice seems to be on his side. He has worked for me
all his life, is working still, I'm afraid--Here is _your_ father, Miss
Falconer; and looking for you, I'm afraid."
Ralph Falconer stood in the doorway looking round, his heavy face
seeming heavier than usual, his thick lips drooping. As he saw the two
young people, his lips straightened and he went over to them slowly.
"I hope you are not going to take Miss Falconer away, sir?" said
Stafford.
Ralph Falconer shook his head, and, avoiding his daughter's eye, said:
"Sir Stephen wants to see you in the library, Mr. Orme, and wishes me
to accompany you."
"Certainly, if Miss Falconer will excuse me."
He rose, and he fancied her hand trembled slightly as it rested almost
as lightly as a feather on his arm.
"I'll take you to Lady Clansford--"
"There is no need: here is my next partner," she said, as the
"beautiful, bountiful Bertie" came up smiling and buoyant.
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