“Arthur Varian, there can never be a marriage between you and my daughter. The fates forbid it, the unknown forces that control your life and hers cry out upon it. You must forget each other, for your love is the most ill-fated and hopeless the world ever knew. Arguments and entreaties are alike useless. You will believe that I am in terrible earnest when I tell you that I would sooner see my daughter dead than give her to you as a bride.” “This is strange--passing strange, Mr. Dawn,” the young man uttered, indignantly, yet still not as angrily as might have been expected. A subtle something about the man, with his grave, sad, handsome visage, claimed his respectful admiration, in spite of the mystery that surrounded his rejection of his daughter’s suitor. “It is strange, but true,” answered Everard Dawn, wearily; and he added: “Do not let us prolong this most painful conversation. Nothing can change the decrees of relentless fate.” Arthur felt himself politely dismissed, and turned toward the door. “You will at least permit me a parting interview with Cinthia?” he murmured. “You must forego it. It is better so. To-morrow she leaves this place with me forever. Your two lives must never cross again!” With a heart full of pain, and anger, and silent rebellion, the young man bowed, and walked out of the house; but ere he reached the gate, he heard flying footsteps behind him, and turned to greet Cinthia, bareheaded and breathless, her cheeks pale, the tears hanging on the curly fringe of her dark lashes. She clasped her tiny hands around his arm, reckless of her father’s eyes watching disapprovingly from the window, and murmured: “Well?” “He refuses his consent, Cinthia, and says he will take you away to-morrow where we shall never meet again.” “Arthur, you will never let him do it; you will not forsake me if you love me!” wildly, passionately. “My darling, you know I can not live without you! Would you elope with me?” “Yes, yes!” she began, eagerly; but just then her father appeared at the door. “Cinthia, you must come in out of the cold!” he called, sternly; and Arthur said: “Go, my darling!” CHAPTER VIII. A DARK SECRET. Cinthia did not obey. She only clung closer to her sorrowing lover. “Oh, Arthur, don’t leave me! Take me home with you to your sweet, kind mother! I hate that man!” she sobbed in wild _abandon_. Her father came down the walk toward them, and Arthur bent and whispered rapidly in her ear: “Go in with him now, my own sweet love, for we can not defy him openly, we can only defeat him by strategy. Be brave, darling, for--I will come for you and take you away to-night.” He kissed her, in spite of Mr. Dawn’s great eyes, and pushed her from him with gentle violence just as her father came out and took her hand. “Come, Cinthia,” he said, with gentle firmness, and she followed, though she shook off his touch as though it had been a viper.