Mr. Fern shook his head doubtfully. He was much afraid of doing something to injure Daisy's feelings. He could not believe she wanted to have the trouble that had crushed her raked up by any one. Archie persisted, however, and his arguments at last won the day.
"You do not think I would come here with any tidings I did not believe agreeable?" he said, interrogatively. "You know I care too much for--for both of you--to do that."
When Miss Daisy was summoned, which she was at last, and Mr. Weil gently let drop a hint of what he had to tell, the girl was hardly less agitated than her father had been. Instead, however, as the visitor expected, of relying on her natural protector during the expected recital, she whispered to Mr. Fern, who obediently rose and let her lead him out of the room. Presently she returned, and took a chair opposite to Mr. Weil. Her face was so pathetic, her attitude so entreating, that he quite forgot what he had come to tell, and leaning toward her, took her hands in his.
"Daisy," he said, "I--I--" and he could go no further.
"Yes, I know," she answered, in a low voice. "But there is a reason why I cannot listen to you. I have told you that before. I ought not even to say as much as this. I should not even remain in the room while you explain the least thing."
He choked down the rising in his throat and hastened, lest she should follow literally the sentiment she had outlined and leave him to himself.
"This has all been true, until now," he said. "You were under a promise, an oath. But--Daisy, last night I heard all that passed between you and your persecutor, and there is no longer any need for mystery between us."
"Everything. I was within forty feet of you. Are you sorry that the awful cloud is blown away--that your perfect innocence is proved without a violation of your plighted word?"
For the girl was crying, slowly, without hysteria, crying with both her hands tightly clasped over her eyes.
"_I_ did not need it, not I," continued the man, earnestly. "I knew you had done nothing of your free will that the whole world might not know. But I knew, too, that you would be pleased to have your innocence established. And I was glad for another reason. I love you, Daisy. I have loved you a very long time. Your sister was right in that. Had you not shown such a marked preference for my friend I would have done my best to win you, months and months ago. While you felt that you were an object of suspicion I knew you would not consent to be my wife. Now, that obstacle is gone and--Daisy--I want you."