White with suppressed wrath, Mr. Ellerton walked to the table, took up his hat and giving Robert his cap, pointed silently to the door. Robert took the cap and went boldly to Dora’s side. “Good-night, darling,” he whispered. “Watch for me, for I shall come again soon.” He bent down and kissed her flushed cheek, and bowing to the others, followed his father from the room. CHAPTER V. THE PARTING. Mr. Ellerton and his son entered their carriage in silence; the one in stern and gloomy displeasure, the other with a look of firm resolve still upon his face, though his heart throbbed and glowed with exultation, that Dora had remained steadfast as he himself. Mr. Ellerton drove furiously homeward, giving free vent to his feelings by smartly applying the lash to poor startled old Prince’s back, which had never been beaten so before. At the door he gave the horse to a servant, and telling Robert to go directly to the library, he took off his light summer overcoat and hat, hung them upon the rack in the hall, and then followed him. He locked the door after him, and going the table, lit an astral lamp and seated himself in silence, motioning Robert to do the same. After a few moments spent in deep thought, he turned his eyes upon his son and said, in a hard, cold voice: “Well, sir, how much longer do you intend to carry on this farce?” “What farce?” asked Robert, innocently. “What farce, you fool? why, this ridiculous obstinacy about this more ridiculous marriage.” “It is no farce, father,” firmly replied his son. “Have done with such talk, or by Heaven, I’ll flog you. I tell you this thing is going to be made null and void, and if you won’t obey me willingly, I will force you to obedience. Not one penny of my money shall you have, to begin with; I will give it to some one who is willing to give heed to my wishes. And I think I know of one who would be very glad to get it.” This latter sentence was muttered partly aloud and partly to himself, while a bitter sneer curled his lips. “I will shut you up,” he continued, “and you shall live upon bread and water until you consent, or if that does not bring you to your senses, I will send you to the remotest lands of the earth, where, with barely enough to live upon, you will soon be glad to come to terms. The idea of you really thinking that you love this low, ill-bred girl, or even the thought of marrying her in the future, is perfectly absurd. Why, boy, she is almost a beggar, while you will be worth your hundreds of thousands. My son mating with such as she! I tell you I won’t have it. Better had you died when you were so ill, than that Dr. Dupont should have saved your life, to waste it on his girl. Choose, sir, and choose thoughtfully and carefully, for I swear I’ll move heaven and earth before this thing shall go on. You know what the girl said; if you would repent she would also.”