Ronald Bruce threw himself into the chair and waited. John Palmer went to the window, tapped upon it and called one of the boys who was chopping wood in the yard and who immediately approached. “Ned, tell your sister Em. to come in here. I want to speak to her,” said the father. The boy ran off to do his errand. John Palmer unlocked the door and set it open. In a few moments Em. entered the room. She looked very much flushed and embarrassed, and her color came and went as she glanced from her lover to her father. She seemed to feel that her fate was being weighed in the balance of the moment, and that a second might decide it for weal or woe. “Good-morning, father. Good-morning, Mr. Bruce,” she faltered in low tones, compelling herself to this act of politeness, although her very heart seemed fainting within her for fear. Ronald Bruce bowed low to her salutation, while John Palmer held out his hand and said: “Come here, my girl, I have something to say to you.” Em. went to him. He encircled her with one arm and drew her close to his side while he said: “Em., my child, this good young gentleman here has done us the honor to ask me for you as his wife—as most likely you know.” Em. gave a quick, short nod and caught her breath. “You did know, of course. Well, my daughter, there is no young man in the world that I like better than him—just as there is no young woman in the world that I love better than you. So, having the lasting happiness of both in view, I must decline this marriage for you, my Em.” “_Oh, father!_” she breathed almost under her breath. “His friends would never consent to receive my child as a relative, Em. I would never consent for you to enter any family who would not be as _proud_ to receive you as I should be to give you. Besides this, unequal marriages never end well. Where a gentleman marries a poor girl, however much he may seem to have loved her at first, he grows tired of her, perhaps ashamed of her, and ceases to love her, maybe begins to hate her——” “Oh, father! father!” moaned the girl in a low tone of anguish. “Mr. Palmer, you must not say these things to your daughter! They are cruel, unmanly, and what is more, untrue, as far as I am concerned,” hotly interposed Ronald Bruce. “They are hard and bitter words, I know, young people,” said John Palmer, keeping his temper. “But bitters are tonics to cure weakness. Now, my Em., to _you_ I speak. You are my child. This young gentleman here declares that he will marry you in defiance of his relations and yours, and all the world and the rest of mankind, as the late General Taylor used to say. The question, then, is this, my child: whether you will marry him without my consent and against my wishes? Answer, Em.!” “Emolyn, pause! Do not commit yourself hastily by a promise that will drive me mad and make yourself miserable!” impetuously exclaimed the lover. “Take time to consider, Emolyn! Tell your father that you must have time!” he earnestly pleaded.