“It means something which it is thy right to know, and therefore I have made up my mind to tell thee, even at the risk of incurring thy lasting displeasure. It means that I have followed the guidance of my own heart and bestowed it on a man a thousand times better and nobler than Alfred Barton ever was, and, if the Lord spares us to each other, I shall one day be his wife!” The Doctor glared at his daughter in speechless amazement. But she met his gaze steadily, although her face grew a shade paler, and the expression of the pain she could not entirely suppress, with the knowledge of the struggle before her, trembled a little about the corners of her lips. “Who is this man?” he asked. “Gilbert Potter.” Dr. Deane's pipe dropped from his hand and smashed upon the iron hearth. “Martha Deane!” he cried. “Does the d---- _what_ possesses thee? Wasn't it enough that thee should drive away the man I had picked out for thee, with a single view to thy own interest and happiness; but must thee take up, as a wicked spite to thy father, with almost the only man in the neighborhood who brings thee nothing but poverty and disgrace? It shall not be--it shall never be!” “It _must_ be, father,” she said gently. “God hath joined our hearts and our lives, and no man--not even thee--shall put them asunder. If there were disgrace, in the eyes of the world,--which I now know there is not,--Gilbert has wiped it out by his courage, his integrity, and his sufferings. If he is poor, I am well to do.” “Thee forgets,” the Doctor interrupted, in a stern voice, “the time isn't up!” “I know that unless thee gives thy consent, we must wait three years; but I hope, father, when thee comes to know Gilbert better, thee will not be so hard. I am thy only child, and my happiness cannot be indifferent to thee. I have tried to obey thee in all things”-- He interrupted her again. “Thee's adding another cross to them I bear for thee already! Am I not, in a manner, thy keeper, and responsible for thee, before the world and in the sight of the Lord? But thee hardened thy heart against the direction of the Spirit, and what wonder, then, that it's hardened against me?” “No, father,” said Martha, rising and laying her hand softly upon his arm, “I _obeyed_ the Spirit in that other matter, as I obey my conscience in this. I took my duty into my own hands, and considered it in a humble, and, I hope, a pious spirit. I saw that there were innocent needs of nature, pleasant enjoyments of life, which did not conflict with sincere devotion, and that I was not called upon to renounce them because others happened to see the world in a different light. In this sense, thee is not my keeper; I must render an account, not to thee, but to Him who gave me my soul. Neither is thee the keeper of my heart and its affections. In the one case and the other my right is equal,--nay, it stands as far above thine as Heaven is above the earth!”