“I wish we could be at peace, papa. Oh, why cannot you be reasonable, and let me be happy?” she exclaimed, with gathering tears and a bitter pain at the rupture she foresaw. “Speak! What do you think of your lover’s statement?” reiterated Mr. Dalton, harshly. “If I must speak—then—I must,” she began, with quiet dignity, “although I dislike to cause you either anger or sorrow. I think this is a matter which _I_ alone can decide, and—_I have decided_.” “_How_ have you decided?” thundered Mr. Dalton, striding toward her. “I have decided that if we both do live, I shall be Earle Wayne’s wife,” she said, with a quiet firmness that left no room for doubt. A proud, glad light leaped into Earle’s face at these brave words, though he would cheerfully have shielded her at almost any cost from this angry scene with her father. “Aha! you have, have you?” he returned, in tones that made her shrink from him and move nearer Earle, as if for protection from some impending ill, though she knew not what. Mr. Dalton marked the gesture, and it enraged him still more. “I suppose you think you love this fine young gentleman very much,” he said, with a strange smile upon his lips. “Yes, sir, I do,” she answered, unflinchingly. “And you, sir?” turning fiercely upon Earle. He would not have deigned to reply to the trivial question had he not deemed it best for Editha’s sake to temporize with him. “I have loved Miss Dalton since the day Mr. Forrester introduced me to her, more than six years ago,” he answered, quietly. “I can crush you both with a breath—you shall _never_ marry each other,” Sumner Dalton whispered, hoarsely. Earle thought this but an idle threat, uttered in the heat of passion, and paid no particular heed to it; but he longed to put an end to the disgraceful scene. “Mr. Dalton,” he said, speaking very calmly, “why will you not listen to reason? Do you not see that there is nothing to be gained by so much passionate opposition? Editha and I are both of age, capable to act for ourselves, and we both also believe that there can be no impediment to our union except, perhaps, the fancied one of a social unfitness; and for that we do not propose to sacrifice the happiness of our lives. I do not desire to be at enmity with you, and I cannot understand why you should be so violent in your dislike of me, since I am not conscious of ever having done you any injury. I do not mean to be unreasonable in my resistance of your will and authority, but your own good sense will tell you that no man would lightly yield the woman he loved as his own life; and, while I believe that every child should obey the divine injunction to ‘honor one’s parents,’ yet there _is_ a limit beyond which this will not apply. Now, if you have any good and sufficient reason for what you assert, I desire to hear it.”