The older man started and his face softened. A flash of understanding and love passed between the two men.
"Remember, she has said she loves some one else. She could never be mine now."
There was terrible sadness in the words as David spoke them, and his voice broke. Madam Schuyler turned away and took out her handkerchief, an article of apparel for which she seldom had use except as it belonged to every well ordered toilet.
The father stood looking hopelessly at David and taking in the thought. Then he too bowed his head and groaned.
"And my daughter, my little Kate has done it!" Marcia covered her face with the curtains and her tears fell fast.
David went and stood beside the Squire and touched his arm.
"Don't!" he said pleadingly. "You could not help it. It was not your fault. Do not take it so to heart!"
"But it is my disgrace. I have brought up a child who could do it. I cannot escape from that. It is the most dishonorable thing a woman can do. And look how she has done it, brought shame upon us all! Here we have a wedding on our hands, and little or no time to do anything! I have lived in honor all my life, and now to be disgraced by my own daughter!"
Marcia shuddered at her father's agony. She could not bear it longer. With a soft cry she went to him, and nestled her head against his breast unnoticed.
"Father, father, don't!" she cried.
But her father went on without seeming to see her.
"To be disgraced and deserted and dishonored by my own child! Something must be done. Send the servants! Let the wedding be stopped!"
He looked at Madam and she started toward the door to carry out his bidding, but he recalled her immediately.
"No, stay!" he cried. "It is too late to stop them all. Let them come. Let them be told! Let the disgrace rest upon the one to whom it belongs!"
Madam stopped in consternation! A wedding without a bride! Yet she knew it was a serious thing to try to dispute with her husband in that mood. She paused to consider.
"Oh, father!" exclaimed Marcia, "we couldn't! Think of David."
Her words seemed to touch the right chord, for he turned toward the young man, intense, tender pity in his face.
"Yes, David! We are forgetting David! We must do all we can to make it easier for you. You will be wanting to get away from us as quickly as possible. How can we manage it for you? And where will you go? You will not want to go home just yet?"