"The power of my will," he answered. "Do you think I am going to allow a scandal of this kind to take place?" "It would be a greater scandal if I married him," she replied. "Look here, Dorothy," he said. "We had better look at this matter in the light of reason and common sense----" "That is what I am doing," she interrupted. "I had neither when I gave my promise to Lord Probus. I was just home from school; I knew nothing of the world; I had scarcely a serious thought in my head. My illness has given me time to think and reflect; it has opened my eyes----" "And taken away your moral sense," he snarled. "No, father, I don't think so at all," she answered mildly. "Feeling as I do now, it would be wicked to marry Lord Probus." He rose to his feet and faced her angrily. "Look here, Dorothy," he said. "I am not the man to be thwarted in a thing of this kind. My reputation is in a sense at stake. You have gone too far to draw back now. We should be made the laughing-stock of the entire county. If you had any personal objection to Lord Probus, you should have discovered it before you promised to marry him. Now that all arrangements are made for the wedding, it is too late to draw back." "No, father, it is not too late; and I am thankful for my illness, because it has opened my eyes." "And all this has come about through that detestable young scoundrel who refused to open a gate for you." In a moment her face flushed crimson, and she turned quickly and walked out of the room. "By Jove, what does this mean?" Sir John said to himself angrily when the door closed behind her. "What new influences have been at work, I wonder, or what quixotic or romantic notions has she been getting into her head? Can it be possible--but no, no, that is too absurd! And yet things quite as strange have happened. If I find--great Scott, won't we be quits!" And Sir John paced up and down the room like a caged bear. He did not refer to the subject again that day, nor the next. But he kept his eyes and ears open, and he drew one or two more or less disquieting conclusions. That a change had come over Dorothy was clear. In fact, she was changed in many ways. She seemed to have passed suddenly from girlhood into womanhood. But what lay at the back of this change? Was her illness to bear the entire responsibility, or had other influences been at work? Was the romantic notion she had got into her mind due to natural development, or had some youthful face caught her fancy and touched her heart? But during all those long weeks of her illness she had seen no one but the doctor and vicar and Lord Probus, except--and Sir John gave his beard an impatient tug. By dint of careful inquiry, he got hold of the entire story, not merely of Dorothy's accident, but of the part she had played in Ralph Penlogan's accident.