After a moment of silence he said:  “Mr. Merwyn, I can only speak for myself in this matter.  Of course, I naturally felt all a father’s resentment at your earlier attentions to my daughter.  Since you have condemned them unsparingly I need not refer to them again.  I respect your disposition to atone for the past and to enter on a life of manly duty.  You have my hearty sympathy, whatever may be the result.  I also thank you for your frank words to me.  Nevertheless, Miss Vosburgh must answer the questions you have asked.  She is supreme in her drawing-room, and alone can decide whom she will receive there.  I know she will not welcome any one whom she believes to be unworthy to enter.  I will tell her all that you have said.”

“I do not hope to be welcomed, sir.  I only ask to be received with some degree of charity.  May I call on you to-morrow and learn Miss Vosburgh’s decision?”

“Certainly, at any hour convenient to you.”

Merwyn bowed and retired.  When alone he said, with a deep sigh of relief:  “Well, I have done all in my power at present.  If she has a woman’s heart she won’t be implacable.”

“What kept you so late?” Mrs. Vosburgh asked, as her husband came down to dinner.

“A gentleman called and detained me.”

“Give him my compliments when you see him again,” said Marian, “and tell him that I don’t thank him for his unreasonable hours.  You need more recreation, papa.  Come, take us out to hear some music to-night.”

A few hours later they were at the Academy, occupying balcony seats.  Marian was glancing over the house, between the acts, with her glass, when she suddenly arrested its motion, and fixed it on a lonely occupant of an expensive box.  After a moment she handed the lorgnette to her father, and directed him whither to look.  He smiled and said, “He appears rather pensive and preoccupied, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t fancy pensive, preoccupied men in these times.  Why didn’t he fill his box, instead of selfishly keeping it all to himself?”

“Perhaps he could not secure the company he wished.”

“Who is it?” Mrs. Vosburgh asked.

She was told, and gave Merwyn a longer scrutiny than the others.

“Shall I go and give him your compliments and the message you spoke of at dinner?” resumed Mr. Vosburgh, in a low tone.

“Was it Mr. Merwyn that called so late?” she asked, with a sudden intelligence in her eyes.

Her father nodded, while the suggestion of a smile hovered about his mouth.

“Just think of it, Marian!” said Mrs. Vosburgh.  “We all might now be in that box if you had been like other girls.”

“I am well content where I am.”

During the remainder of the evening Mr. Vosburgh observed some evidences of suppressed excitement in Marian, and saw that she managed to get a glimpse of that box more than once.  Long before the opera ended it was empty.  He pointed out the fact, and said, humorously, “Mr. Merwyn evidently has something on his mind.”