“Father, as far as my marriage with Dr. Hardcastle on Thursday week is concerned, my fate has gone out of my hands and into God’s! I have no more to say about that.” “Ha! ha! I should think not. Not quite so confident as you were an hour ago, hey?” “But, father, forgive me for reminding you that as far as marriage with any other person is concerned, that is entirely in my hands for refusal. Church and State very properly make the bride’s consent an indispensable preliminary to marriage, and even a vital part of the marriage ceremony. And my consent can never be gained to marry Lionel.” “Ha! my pretty piece of stubbornness, we shall see. Pray, do you know—have you ever felt the power of solitary imprisonment, cold, and hunger, in bringing a contumacious girl to docility?” Elsie’s face flushed, more for him than herself. He continued: “For all those mighty engines can I spring upon you! And will I, by Satan and all his hosts!” “Father, you may do that, and nature may faint and succumb to their power. I am very strong, but those things you threaten me with may be stronger still. But, father, if ever I am left with strength enough to stand before the minister with Lionel Hardcastle by my side, when that minister shall ask me whether I will promise to love, honor, and obey him till death, I shall answer, ‘No, I do not love him, I never did, I never shall. If I stand here to be married to him, it is to please my father, his father, and not myself! And so I cannot tell a falsehood, far less vow one in God’s presence about it. I love Dr. Hardcastle, to whom you all know that I have been long engaged. I always did love him, and always shall,’ and then let the minister of God marry us, if he durst.” With a furious oath he sprang upon her—seized her—the idea of strangling her upon the instant darted through his brain; but he only shook her with frenzied violence, and holding her in his terrible grip, said, with a husky voice and ashen cheek, and gleaming eye: “If you were to do so, girl, as God in heaven hears me, I would kill you!” And she felt to the very core of her shuddering heart that he told the truth. Then he dropped her, and threw himself out of the room, leaving her there, half dead with cold and fright, in the miserably bleak attic, without a spark of fire or light, for the lamp had been blown out by the fury with which her father had banged the door. CHAPTER XXI. CRUELTY—A CHAMBER SCENE. Thou knowest not the meekness of love, How it suffers and yet can be still— How the calm on its surface may prove What sorrow the bosom may fill. _—Mrs. Ellis._