“To what purpose?” interposed Rufus half fiercely. “My father is a mercenary, villainous--Don’t stop me, Lally. I am telling the truth, if he _is_ my father. Thank God, I took after my poor mother. My father does not know we are married, and I dare not tell him. If I fear anybody in this world, I fear my father.” “But he must know some time of our marriage,” urged the young wife. “You make me afraid, dear, that we did wrong in marrying. We are too young, and I had to work for my living. Your father could never forgive me, and accept me as his daughter. My family is of no account, and yours is good. People think of all these things, and you will be looked down upon for your unfortunate, ill-starred marriage. Oh, Rufus, if we could undo what we have done, it might be well for us.” The young husband endeavored to console his wife, and he had brought back her bright hopefulness, when the postman’s knock was heard on the street door. A sudden hope thrilled them both. They listened breathlessly, and not in vain. Presently the housemaid’s heavy tread was heard on the stairs, and she entered the room, bringing a letter. When she had departed, Rufus opened the letter, and the young couple perused it together. It was dated Wyndham village, and had been written by Craven Black, and contained simply an announcement that the father desired to be reconciled to his son; that he saw a way in which he could make Rufus a rich man; and he begged his son, if he also desired a reconciliation and wealth, and was willing to submit himself to his father’s will, to come to him at once by the earliest train. Between the leaves of the letter was a ten-pound note. “You will go, of course?” cried the young wife excitedly. “I wish I knew what he meant,” muttered Rufus irresolutely. “He is your father, dear, and you will go,” urged Lally. “For my sake, you will go. And Rufus, I beg you to yield to his wishes. They will not be unreasonable, I am sure. Say you will go!” Rufus hesitated. He knew that when with his father, he was a coward without a will of his own. What if he should be driven into some act he should hereafter repent? Yet at last he consented to go to his father, and an hour later he divided his money with his wife, giving her the larger share, and took his departure. At that last moment a horrible misgiving came over him, and he ran back and kissed the little sunshiny face he loved, and then he went out again and made his way to the station, with a death-like pall upon his soul. CHAPTER IX. A KNOT SUMMARILY SEVERED.