In that hard, cold face Eleanor Hill at last read her destiny. She had been weak, compliant and submissive, but never reconciled to her shame; and at that moment began her revolt. "I understand you at last," she said. "After all your promises, you will _not_ marry me!" "Once for all--no!" was the firm reply, the cruel face not blenching in the least before that glance, mingled of pain and indignation, and so steadily bent upon it. "Then I have lived long enough in this house--too long!" broke from the lips of the young girl. "I will leave it to-morrow. You cannot give me back the thing of most value of which you have robbed me--my honor and my peace of mind; but my father left my property in your hands--give me back that, so that I may go away and hide myself where I shall never be any more trouble to you or to any others who know me." "Humph! your property!" was the reply, in so sneering a tone that even the unsuspicious ears of the victim caught something more in the manner than in the words themselves. "Yes, I said my property--the property my father left in your hands for me!" answered poor Eleanor, striving to conquer the deadly depression at her heart and to be calm and dignified. "You have told me the truth at last; and I will never ask you the question again if you will give me enough money for my support and let me go away from this life of sin into which you have dragged me." "You want to go away, do you!" again spoke the doctor, in the same sneering tone. "And you expect to support yourself upon what you call 'your property?'" "I do want to go away--I must go away, Dr. Philip!" answered the victim, still managing to choke down the tears and sobs that were rising so painfully. "You have cruelly deceived a poor girl who trusted you, and we had better never see each other again while we live." "Your property, you said! Bring me that large black portfolio from the top of the closet yonder," was the only and strange reply. With the habit of her old obedience the young girl went to the place designated, found the pocket-book and brought it to him. He opened it, took out half a dozen pieces of what seemed to be bank-note paper, and handed them over to her without an additional word. "What are these, and what I am to do with them?" she asked, in surprise. "They are 'your fortune' that you have been talking about, and you may do what you like with them if you insist upon leaving my house!" was the reply. "I do not understand you!" very naturally answered the recipient, making no motion to open the papers. "If these are mine, I cannot tell what to do with them or how much they are worth."