As they passed into the long hall again, the Major laid aside his hat and turned to the open library door to resume his reading. Julia gently detained him.
"Daddy, what's the trouble between Mr. Marston and us?"
"Would a friend attempt so vile a thing as was attempted last night? He has grounds for his conduct, or thinks he has. I want to know it all. I'm sure you never harmed any of his, or him. Then why does the man hate us? He must be very wicked, for no honorable enemy would employ such underhand methods of attack. Now tell me all about it, won't you?"
Major Dudley tilted her chin with his bent forefinger, and gazed long and earnestly into the fearless eyes upheld to meet his own.
"There are some things little girls shouldn't know," he said, finally.
"Little girls, indeed!" she exclaimed, almost petulantly. "Won't you ever realize that I'm a woman, though a young one, and can't you trust your only daughter with a family secret, daddy dear?"
It was quite evident that her feelings were on the verge of being wounded, for her lips were a little unsteady, and her eyes were reproachful.
The reply came in a soft, reminiscent voice.
"'Twas yesterday you were in pinafores, chasing butterflies by day and fire-flies by night, out yonder on the lawn. Are you really _twenty_?"
"Yes, sir; and I demand it as my right to share your burdens. They will be lighter so, for us both."
The Major sighed, and lifted his hand to his forehead.
"You are right, and I promise that you shall know. But not now--not now."
"Yes, in a day or two. Run along now and gather some flowers."
He bent to receive her kiss, and stood watching her as she moved with a free, swift step out onto the portico, into the yard, and over to a side fence where a mass of nasturtiums were rioting in a wealth of variegated colors.
"That is where her life should be," he murmured to himself; "spent among blooming flowers, listening to the birds, caressed by sun and wind. Now she demands of me the story of Devil Marston's hate, and I have to tell her. Why do innocent children have to grow up and taste of bitterness? Why must she know of man's inhumanity, injustice and greed? O my little Julia, I would keep you from every thorn if I could! This old breast would gladly take all that were meant for you, and not mind the sting! But that is not God's way, and His way is best. Poor child! I wish it could be otherwise."