“Will you please to give me some reason for what seems to me an unreasonable refusal?” he asked, quietly; then, after an instant’s thought, he added. “I have lately fallen heir to quite a handsome property, and can place Miss Dalton in a position befitting her worth.” “I regret, for your sake, that I am unable to confer the favor requested upon one _so noble_ and heir to such _brilliant_ prospects; but even were it possible, allow me to ask what _name_ you could bestow upon Miss Dalton?” and the look accompanying this question was so cunning and full of malice that for a moment Earle was startled. “The woman I wed will never have cause to blush for the name she bears, sir,” he replied, with an indignant flush, and wondering if it was possible that Mr. Dalton could know aught concerning his previous history. “Ah, indeed!” was the sarcastic reply. “I trust—I hope truly that you may find one _worthy to bear it_. Miss Dalton cannot. I decline that honor for her.” “Miss Dalton is of age, I believe, sir,” Earle said, very quietly, but the words were rather ominous. “Miss Dalton is about twenty-two, Mr.—ah—_Wayne_.” Why was it, Earle wondered, that Mr. Dalton almost always addressed him in this peculiar way now, with a pause, an interjection, and that strange emphasis on his last name? But he replied to his last remark with a dignity that became him well: “Then, sir, we will leave the question for her to decide, and abide by her verdict. I desired to render you all due courtesy, but, of course, you are as well aware as I that my seeking your approval was a mere matter of form. Good-morning, sir.” “Good-morning,” Mr. Dalton returned, with a mocking bow, and saw him depart with a sinister smile and an almost fiendish chuckle. Earle immediately sought Editha, and communicated the result of the interview to her. “I shall not ask you to run away with me, my darling,” he said, with a fond smile, “for I must marry my wife in an honorable way. Neither shall I use any arguments to try to persuade you to defy your father and marry me openly. I shall leave it entirely with you. It must be just as your own heart dictates. Editha, you must decide this matter for yourself and me.” “Oh, Earle, it is hard,” she said; “my heart tells me that I belong to you, while a feeling of pity and affection prompts me to consider, as far as is right, the feelings and wishes of my father. I cannot understand him; he is so changed since mamma and Uncle Richard died, I sometimes fear that his mind is affected.” Earle thought that his mind was affected decidedly, being possessed with an evil spirit of some kind. “An impassable barrier seems to have arisen between us,” Editha continued, sadly; “and he has taken such an unaccountable dislike to you that it seems very strange to me. Let me think it all over for one night, Earle. Come to me to-morrow at this time and you shall have my answer.”