"Well, my dear sir, it is all settled. With your approbation, we--Miss Violet Wood and myself--will be married on the fourteenth proximo, and leave for Europe immediately afterward," said Mr. Fabian, seating himself.
"That is right. I am glad that you will sail in February. You will thereby escape the winds of March and the tempests of the spring equinox," said the Iron King, sententiously.
"I am very glad you approve," said Mr. Fabian.
Fabian looked at him; saw that the old man looked grave, depressed, yet stern and strong as adamant. He felt very sorry for his father. His own present happiness rendered good-natured Mr. Fabian very compassionate toward the lonely old widower. He had something, inspired by this compassion, to suggest to the old man, yet he feared to do so straightforwardly.
"Father," he said at length, for he didn't mind lying the least in the world--"Father, I heard a strange report about you this morning."
"Indeed! What was it? That I had failed in business, or quadrupled my fortune?" inquired the egotist, who was always interested when the question concerned himself.
"Neither, sir. I heard you were going to be married."
"Fabian!" sternly exclaimed the Iron King, darkly gathering his brows.
"Yes, sir," said the benevolent Mr. Fabian, who, now that the ice was broken, could go on lying glibly with the best intentions and without the slightest scruple; "yes, sir; you know such rumors must necessarily get afloat about such a fine-looking, marriageable man as yourself."
"Ah! and since the community have made so free, pray what lady's name have they honored me by associating with mine?" inquired the Iron King somewhat sarcastically, yet not ill-pleased to learn that he was still to be considered a great prize in the matrimonial market.
"Why, of course there could be but one lady in the question; and equally, of course, you will be able to place her," said Mr. Fabian, smiling.
"Well, then, the lady to whom you are reported to be engaged is the beautiful Mrs. Bloomingfield."
"The beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Bloomingfield, with whom you sat and talked during the whole evening of the governor's State dinner party."
"Oh, the widow of General Bloomingfield, who died three years ago. Yes, I remember her--a very fine creature, most certainly--but I never dreamed of her in the light of a wife. In fact, I never dreamed of marrying again," said the Iron King, speaking with unusual gentleness.