He was relentless. As far as he was concerned, the noble sentiments conveyed in the words of a celebrated poet, “To err is human; to forgive, divine,” never for a moment passed through his mind. She had brought disgrace upon him. She had sullied the name of Ethalwood by running away with a low-born foreigner, a miserable teacher. The thought was agony. He never would acknowledge her――never more. It was something fearful to witness the inexorable determination of the injured and unforgiving father, who never for a moment reflected that he was in some measure responsible for the misfortune which had befallen him. Had he been less exacting, given her a wider sphere of action, the chances would have been she would not have been forced into the error which brought with it so much misery. CHAPTER XXV. THE CHILDLESS MAN――IN THE HANDS OF FATE. The two sons of Lord Ethalwood were perfectly astounded when the news reached them of their sister’s elopement with Signor Montini. They might and, indeed, ought to have taken her part; but they knew pretty well the hopelessness of any appeal to their father, who was not a man to give way when he had once made up his mind. They had, indeed, seen so little of their sister, had been so estranged from her for so long a time, had left her so entirely to their father’s disposal that they did not hold themselves responsible for her actions. Nevertheless, they found it difficult to comprehend how she could have so forgotten herself. Lord Ethalwood made no loud complaints. To all appearance he was as calm and impassible as of yore. If any one attempted to condole with him he held up his hand in a deprecatory manner, which enforced silence. His sorrow――his anger lay too deep for words. He did not interrogate any of the household about his daughter’s mode of life, or make any inquiry about Montini. Servants as a rule are loquacious enough with regard to the movements of their superiors. His gamekeepers could, and, indeed, would have told him of rambles in the woods of Broxbridge, of stolen meetings in the grounds, but their lord and master at once repressed them. He forbade them ever to mention the names of either the Italian or their young mistress. The men of course deemed it expedient to keep silent. The housekeeper began to open her mind to his lordship. “I do not desire, madam, to enter into the question, and therefore beg that for now and hereafter you will hold your peace. The past has passed away; let it be forgotten.” The housekeeper made a curtsey and retired. In a few days after this she received a notice from his lordship, who was then at his town residence, to quit his service. He did not return till the notice had expired, and she had taken her departure. She was sagacious enough to understand the cause of her dismissal. His daughter’s lady maid and two other female servants were also discharged.