But I could not see him. I told Dixon to ask him if he would like to see you--I think I asked her to find you, and you would go to him. I don't know what I said.' 'He has been a very agreeable acquaintance, has he not?' asked Frederick, throwing the question like a ball for any one to catch who chose. 'A very kind friend,' said Margaret, when her father did not answer. Frederick was silent for a time. At last he spoke: 'Margaret, it is painful to think I can never thank those who have shown you kindness. Your acquaintances and mine must be separate. Unless, indeed, I run the chances of a court-martial, or unless you and my father would come to Spain.' He threw out this last suggestion as a kind of feeler;and then suddenly made the plunge. 'You don't know how I wish you would.
I have a good position--the chance of a better,' continued he, reddening like a girl. 'That Dolores Barbour that I was telling you of, Margaret--Ionly wish you knew her; I am sure you would like--no, love is the right word, like is so poor--you would love her, father, if you knew her. She is not eighteen; but if she is in the same mind another year, she is to be my wife. Mr. Barbour won't let us call it an engagement. But if you would come, you would find friends everywhere, besides Dolores. Think of it, father. Margaret, be on my side.' 'No--no more removals for me,' said Mr. Hale. 'One removal has cost me my wife. No more removals in this life. She will be here; and here will I stay out my appointed time.' 'Oh, Frederick,' said Margaret, 'tell us more about her. I never thought of this; but I am so glad. You will have some one to love and care for you out there. Tell us all about it.' 'In the first place, she is a Roman Catholic. That's the only objection I anticipated. But my father's change of opinion--nay, Margaret, don't sigh.' Margaret had reason to sigh a little more before the conversation ended.