“My dear, did I understand that last statement of Mr.—ah—_Wayne’s_ correctly?” “You did, papa,” she answered, but it was a great effort for her to utter the three short words. “You have decided to spend your future in Europe?” “Yes, sir.” She ventured to glance at him. She could understand neither his tone nor his mood. “You will leave your native land and go with a stranger to a foreign country?” “Earle is no stranger, papa,” she said, quickly; “we have known him for years, and surely you ought to be willing to trust me with one so good and true as he is.” “So good and true!” he repeated, mockingly. “You are exceedingly fond of Mr. Wayne?” “Yes, sir, I _am_,” Editha now said, boldly, and turning her flashing eyes full upon him. Her indignation was rising—her patience giving out under his scathing sarcasms. “Mr. Wayne ought to be a happy man—he doubtless _is_ a happy man in having so brave and fair a champion. It is so beautiful to witness such entire trust and confidence—such fervent affection. My dear, you can go to Europe with Mr. Wayne if you choose, I suppose, seeing that you have attained your majority, as he has once hinted to me, but—_you cannot as his wife_!” The whole sentence was spoken with great apparent calmness and deliberation, but his eyes glowed like a burning flame upon the lovers standing so proudly side by side. “If my majority gives me the right to choose upon one point, it does upon the other also, I suppose,” she returned, coldly. “Oh, no, my dear, you are entirely mistaken there,” returned Mr. Dalton, with aggravating affability, and darting a fiery glance at Earle. “Papa, I do not understand you in this mood at all,” Editha said, with some hauteur; “but I will say, once for all, that I think you are exceedingly unkind, as well as unreasonable. What possible objection can you have to Earle in a moral point of view?” A gleam of malicious amusement flashed over his face as he answered: “You must excuse me, Editha, but—really—I should not presume to set myself up as a judge upon Mr.—ah—_Wayne’s_ morals—nor indeed upon the morals of any one.” “Then I do not consider that you have any right, for a mere prejudice, to ruin both his life and mine—our united happiness depends upon this union; and, papa, I shall marry Mr. Wayne—if not _with_ your consent, then without it,” she concluded, firmly. “My dear, allow me to repeat, you _cannot_ marry Mr. Wayne.” “And _I_ repeat that I _shall_ do so.” Mr. Dalton chuckled again. “Mr. _Wayne_ will, I suppose, be very _proud_ to bestow his _name_ upon you,” he said, significantly. “Allow me to ask what you mean to insinuate by that assertion?” Earle here interposed, flushing deeply. “Wayne is a name that one might well be proud of, if one had a _right_ to it,” he answered, maliciously. “And you mean me to understand that you think I have no right to it?” “I have my doubts upon the matter.”