"How horrid you are, papa," she cried, dismally; "and so is Judith. I'm sure Mr. Melstane's very nice. He's so handsome, and talks so beautifully about poetry. He's like Conrad, and Mr. Spolger isn't, and I wish I was dead with a tombstone and a broken heart," concluded Miss Marson, tearfully. Judith looked at Mr. Marson, and he looked at Judith. They both felt quite helpless in dealing with this piece of frivolity, whose very weakness constituted her strength. At last Mr. Marson, bending down, smoothed Florry's hair fondly, and spoke soothingly to her. "My dear child," he said, quietly, "you know that all I desire is your happiness; and, believe me, you will thank me in after life for what I am now doing. Sebastian Melstane is a scamp and a spendthrift. If you married him, he would neglect you and make you miserable. Jackson Spolger will make you a good husband, and protect a delicate flower like you from the bleak winds of adversity." "But he's so ugly," sobbed Florry, childishly; "just like the what's-his-name in 'Notre Dame.'" "If you have such an aversion to marry him, Florry, then don't do it," said Judith, quietly. "I'm sure your father would not force you into a marriage against your will." "By no means," said Marson, hastily. "I placed the case before you the other day, Florry, and I place it now. As you know, I have had great losses lately, and unless I can obtain a large sum of ready money I will be irretrievably ruined. Jackson Spolger has promised to put money into the business if you become his wife. I told you this, and you consented, so it is childish of you to go on like this, If you dislike Spolger so much, I will not force you to marry him; but I warn you that your refusal means ruin." "You won't let me marry Sebastian Melstane," cried Florry, obstinately. "No, I won't," retorted her father, angrily. "You need not marry Mr. Spolger unless you like, but you--you certainly shall not marry Sebastian Melstane with my consent; I would rather see you in your grave." "Then I suppose I must marry Mr. Spolger," said Florry, dolefully drying her eyes. "That is as you please," replied Marson, rising to his feet and walking slowly to and fro. "I don't want to sell my child for money. I simply place the case before you, and you are free to refuse or accept as you please. Yes means prosperity, no means ruin, and the choice is entirely in your hands." Florry said nothing, but sat on the hearthrug twisting her handkerchief and staring at the fire. "I would like to say one word, Florry," said Judith, bending forward. "If you did not intend to marry Mr. Spolger you should have said so at first; now the wedding-day is fixed for next week, your dresses are ready, the guests are invited, so it would be rather hard on the poor man to dash the cup of happiness from his lips just as he is tasting it."