He strode into the house, and knocked heavily at his daughter’s door, ordering her to come forth. She did so, with her garments thrown loosely about her. She greeted the young man in a hesitating manner, which went to his heart. “How is this?” said her father, harshly. “Who dares to come to Good Hope in the dead of night, to meet the daughter of a Van Curter? Where is your womanhood, girl? Can you think of this and not blush?” Theresa had much of her father’s untamable spirit, and answered quickly: “It is no shame to meet one whom I love! And I take no fear in saying that I love Willie Barlow.” “Say you so? Am I bearded to my face by a child of mine? Look upon Joseph Van Zandt. You were promised to him long ago. He has waited long years until this hour. And now you—you, of all others, spit upon the contract of your father, and plight your faith to one of alien blood! While I live, it shall never be.” Theresa did not lower her eyes, but met the angry orbs of her father with a full glance. “Speak no more of Joseph Van Zandt. Joseph, I am very sorry that you have set your heart upon a thing which can never be. I do not love you. But, if report says true, you would not have far to go to find one who would be true to you in wedlock. But _I_ love you not as a wife should love, and I never can be yours.” Van Zandt looked at her a moment, the fierce anger in his heart blazing in his eyes. He had waited long years for Theresa—had seen her grow more beautiful, day by day, and now, the torture of hearing her say that she loved him not! He raised his clinched hand on high, and brought it down upon the table with a force which made the glasses ring again. “God in his mercy keep him out of my sight, or I shall kill him,” he cried. “Father!” she cried, “look upon the man you would have me marry. He is a murderer in his heart.” “So am I,” her parent answered, moodily. “Girl, get you in. You shall wed Joseph, as I am your father.” “I would not have it so,” said Joseph. “I marry no unwilling wife. But him—let him take care!” “What would you do?” she half-screamed. “Murder! You have described the feelings of my heart. If he cross not my path, well—he is safe. But, if I meet him, God do so to me, and more also, if both leave the ground alive!” “He is mad,” she said. “You have made me so—you, with your accursed beauty. Blame that, and nothing more.” “Get you in, I say,” cried Van Curter. “Do you still tarry to madden him the more? Get to bed! As for you, Joseph, go to your room and try to get a little sleep. Remember that in the morning we prepare for the march.” “You are right. Now she is gone, I am a man again. I tell you she maddens me. I did not mean to tell her that, when I spoke. Let him look to himself, the alien dog!” “You will have the chance, Joseph, as we march against him, to do away with him forever. Come, be a man.” “I am. You have seen me fight, and know my power. I shall do good service if it comes to blows.”