“Because I do not wish to accept attentions which might lead Mr. Tressalia to imagine that I possess a deeper regard for him than I really have,” Editha said, candidly, yet with some confusion. “Then you mean me to understand you regard Paul Tressalia only in the light of a friend, and you are unwilling that friendship should develop into any warmer sentiment?” Mr. Dalton asked, with lowering brow. “Yes, sir,” was the firm though low reply. “That places me in a very fine position; for—for—I may as well out with it first as last—that gentleman has asked my permission to address you with a view to marriage, and I have given it;” and Mr. Dalton looked very much disturbed and angry. “Oh, papa!” Editha exclaimed, in pained surprise, and flushing deepest crimson. “Well?” he demanded, almost fiercely, while he eyed her keenly. “I am very sorry you have done so, for it cannot be;” and her voice trembled slightly as she said it. “Why?” “Because—I can never care for him in any such way as _that_.” “In any such way as what?” he asked, with a sneer. “You know what I mean well enough—the warmer sentiment of which I have already spoken,” she answered, with a rush of tears to her eyes at his unkind tone. She struggled a moment for self-control, and then continued: “I admire Mr. Tressalia exceedingly; he is a man who must command any woman’s respect and esteem; he is cultivated and refined, and possesses one of the kindest, most generous natures, but——” “But you don’t want to marry him, is that it?” he interrupted. “No, sir, I do not,” she said, very firmly, but with another rush of color to the beautiful face. Mr. Dalton’s face grew dark, and he twitched nervously in his chair. “I am sure I cannot conceive what possible objection you can have to him as a husband; he is handsome as a king, polished, distinguished in his profession, and rich enough to surround you with every elegance the world can afford.” “I have already told you my sole objection—I do not love him,” the fair girl said, wearily. “Pshaw! I am sure he is fitted to command the love of any woman.” “Yes, sir; he is very noble, very good, very attractive; and I cannot tell you _why_ I do not, but simply that I _do_ not.” “And you would not accept him if he should propose for your hand?” “No, sir,” was the low but very steady reply. Mr. Dalton’s eyes flashed ominously; he was growing furious at her obstinacy. He had decreed that she should marry the distinguished young surgeon, and who was reported heir to such large possessions. It will be remembered that we have stated gold was Mr. Dalton’s idol, consequently he was anxious to secure so valuable a prize, so that in case his own supply of this world’s goods should fail him, he would have an exhaustless reservoir to which he could go and replenish. “I desire that you consent to marry Paul Tressalia whenever he sees fit to ask you to become his wife,” he said, in tones of command.