"No; he said a good many words. But I am adamant, so far as this ridiculous marriage is concerned. He accepted the inevitable after some fighting, and took his departure this morning before you were up. I see," he added, glancing at the note in her hands, "that he has written to you." "Yes." Ruth gave it to him. "But it explains nothing." "It explains all there is to explain," said Mr. Cass. "Let the matter drop now. Neil has gone away on business; so we will say nothing about his love for you. You'll soon get over it." "Indeed I shan't!" sobbed the girl, now on the tearful tack. "It is cruel of you to send him away when I love him so. I don't believe he gave me up because you refused. There is something else." "There is nothing else." Mr. Cass's tone was decisive. But Ruth's fine ear caught something of hesitation in his voice, and she dropped her handkerchief from her eyes with a triumphant air. "I knew there was something else. What is it--something about his parents?" Mr. Cass started and changed colour at this chance shot. "Good Heavens, child! Who told you anything about his parents?" he said; and no sooner had he said it than he repented his rashness. For thereby she had gained an advantage which she would not be slow to seize. "Why," she said, very slowly, with her eyes fixed on her father's perturbed face, "it was just this way. Neil told me all about his parents having died in America, and how you had brought him up at Bognor." "Did he tell you nothing else?" Mr. Cass was beginning to feel that she was too much for him. This was an opportunity which the girl was too clever to lose. "Well, he did not tell me everything," she said. "He couldn't, you know." "I'm glad he had that much sense," Mr. Cass said, with relief. "Ah, papa, now I have caught you!" cried Miss Cass, clapping her hands. "I know nothing, then, except that you brought him up. But you admit there is something else which has stopped the marriage?" He saw that he had been over-reached. "I can tell you nothing," he said. "Very well, papa," she said, turning to go, "I'll write to Neil and ask him to tell me the truth." "He won't tell you." "Oh, yes, he will. He loves me, and I can get any thing out of him." "Girl! Ruth,"--her father seized her arm--"if you can be sensible, do not write to Webster. He has gone out of your life of his own free will." "I will never--never believe that!" and she flushed angrily. "Do you think I don't know when a man loves me or not? I will see him and learn the truth." "I forbid it, and Ruth saw that her father was very angry. With the cunning of a woman who is determined to get her way, she suddenly yielded, feeling that she could best gain her ends under the mask of peace. "Very well, papa," she said, with a few tears; "but it is very hard on me. I love him, and you have sent him away--for no fault of his own, I'm sure." "He is not in fault--he is unfortunate----" "In his parents?" she asked.