"I shall not let you go. If you have any gratitude in you, you will remain and help me to manage the house." "You have Miss Pewsey." "She is not a relative, you are." "And so you treat me worse than you do her. Well, Aunt Sophia, I am not ungrateful though you seem to think I am. I shall stop with you. I only ask for a little more consideration." "I give you every consideration. As for love, I cannot give it to you or to anyone. I gave all the love my nature was capable of feeling to Markham Ainsleigh, and he rejected my love. Yes, you may look astonished, but it was this man's father who broke my heart." "And that is why you don't want Rupert to marry me." "That is the reason," said Miss Wharf sitting down and growing more her calm stony self. "I was almost engaged to Markham Ainsleigh: but he saw Violet Vane and fell in love with her. He left me and made her his wife. Can you wonder that I hate the son of the woman who stole my love away from me?" "Rupert is the son of the man you loved----" "And of the man who cheated me. Look at my lonely life, at my starved heart. I hate the Ainsleighs--there's only one left but I hate him. And when I heard Markham was murdered in China I was glad--yes, very glad." "What an unforgiving nature you have." "I have every right to be unforgiving. Markham ruined my life. And do you think I'll let you marry Rupert--the son of that woman. No! Marry him, and I leave what money I have to Miss Pewsey." "You can if you like, Aunt Sophia. I don't want your money." "Reflect," said Miss Wharf violently. "I have a thousand a year. Half of that goes to a distant relative, and the remainder you shall have if you will give this man up. Five hundred a year is not to be thrown away." "I cannot give Rupert up," said Olivia firmly. "Think girl," pleaded Miss Wharf, her face becoming red and wrinkled with the violence of her passion, "there are other men who love you. Young Walker would make you a good husband, and Lady Jabe is most anxious for the match." "I like Chris," said Olivia, "and I have known him all my life. But I can't marry him. I want a master when I marry." "Then take Clarence Burgh," said Miss Wharf, "he will be your master." "No. He's a brute." "He's a man--much more of a man than Rupert Ainsleigh." "I deny that," said Olivia fiercely. "He is. Clarence has been all over the world. He has fought everywhere--" "So has Major Tidman. Do you advise me to marry him?" "He would make you a better husband than Rupert, old as he is. That young Ainsleigh is a dreamer. He is on the point of losing his estates, yet he sits at Royabay doing nothing." "He intends to do something, and save the estates." "Never. He is not the sort of man to work. Olivia if you will take Chris Walker, or Clarence Burgh for your husband I shall leave you five hundred a year. If you refuse I give you nothing." "I prefer nothing--and Rupert." "Then you shall not have him. I'll ruin him first."