"But I shall speak! I'm tired of your pale face, and your weeping in secret, turning the whole house into a place of mourning. And what for? A man who would never have married you in any case. His grandfather disowned him, he wouldn't have gained my consent, and the chances are a hundred to one you would have married Ormsby. But, now, you suddenly insult my friend--you see nobody--we can't talk about the war--and, damn me! what else is there to talk about? You call yourself a soldier's daughter, and you're going to break your heart over a man who couldn't play the straight game. Why, his own father and mother can't say a good word for him. Yet, Ormsby's willing to pay seven thousand dollars to stifle a public exposure, just for your sake. Why, girl, it's magnificent! I wouldn't pay seven cents. Ormsby is coming here, and you'll have to be civil to him. Write and tell him so." "Very well, father," sighed Dora, to whom the anger of her parent was a very rare thing. There was some justice in his point of view, although it was harsh justice. For Dick's sake, she could not afford to incense Ormsby. She swallowed her pride and humbled her heart, and, after much deliberation, wrote a reply that was short and to the point. "Miss Dundas expects to receive Mr. Ormsby as her father wishes." CHAPTER XVI MR. TRIMMER COMES HOME "Mr. Trimmer is back." The words went around among the servants at Asherton Hall in a whisper; and everybody was immediately alert, as at the return of a master. Mr. Trimmer was old Herresford's valet, who had been away for a long holiday--the first for many years. Trimmer was a power for good and evil--some said a greater power than Herresford himself, over whom he had gained a mental ascendency. Mr. Trimmer was sixty at least. Yet, his face bore scarce a wrinkle, his back was as straight as any young man's. His hair was coal black--Mrs. Ripon declared that he dyed it. And he was about Herresford's height, spare of figure, and always faultlessly dressed in close-fitting garments with a tendency toward a horsey cut. His head was large, and his thick hair suggested a wig, for two curly locks were brushed forward and brought over the front of the ears, and at the summit of the forehead was a wonderful curl that would not have disgraced a hair-dresser's window block. Faultless and trim, with glistening black eyes that were ever wandering discreetly, he was the embodiment of alert watchfulness. He could efface himself utterly at times, and would stand in the background of the bedchamber, almost out of sight, and as still as if turned to stone.