Finally he realized that all were waiting for
him, and thought sprang, strong and powerful, to his face.
"Dr. Kemp," he began, "I have something to say to you, --to you in
particular, and to my daughter Ruth. My wife and nephew know in brief what
I have to say; therefore I need not dwell on the painful event that
happened here last September; you will pardon me, when you see the
necessity, for my reverting to it at all."
Every one's eyes rested upon him, --that is, all but Arnold's, which seemed
holding some secret communion with the cupids on the ceiling, --and the
look of convulsive agony that swept across Ruth's face was unnoticed.
"In all my long, diversified life," he went on, "I had never suffered as I
did after she told me her decision, --for in all those years no one had
ever been made to suffer through me; that is, so far as I knew.
Unconsciously, or in anger, I may have hurt many, but never, as in this
case, with knowledge aforethought, --when the blow fell upon my own child.
You will understand, and perhaps forgive, when I say I gave no thought to
you. She came to me with her sweet, renunciating hands held out, and with
a smile of self-forgetfulness, said, 'Father, you are right; I could not be
happy with this man.
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