He determined to keep Robert a close prisoner for awhile, until he had the best advice in the state about the matter, and if that did not bend his will, he would send him abroad to be educated, and perhaps, with time and absence, he would get over his infatuation. When morning broke Robert arose and dressed himself, but on attempting to leave the room, he found the door was locked on the outside. The hot and angry blood mounted to his brow, and he stood several minutes with his hands grasping the silver knob, as if he would wrench it open, despite the strong lock that held it fast. Finally, thinking better of it, he turned away, and, taking up a book, commenced reading. An hour elapsed, when the key turned, and a man entered, bearing a silver tray upon which was arranged a steaming and tempting breakfast. He sat it down, and, without a word, left the room, Robert disdaining to question a servant. He remained thus alone for nearly a week, his meals being brought regularly to him, only each day they grew less and less palatable, until at last he received only a glass of water to wash down his cold, dry bread. The confinement began to grow tedious; his father or any member of the family had not been near him, and he began to feel uneasy about Dora, for he had promised to come and see her, and he knew she was watching for him. While thinking thus the lock clicked and his father entered, still wearing the same stern and forbidding countenance as when he last saw him. “Well, Robert,” he said, coldly, “are you ready to yield to my wishes?” “If your wishes remain the same as when I last saw you, I am not.” “Will nothing move you, my son?” pleaded his father, a look almost of despair on his fine face. His voice softened, and tears stood in his eyes. “Father, did you love my mother?” asked Robert, softening for a moment. “As my life, my boy,” and his lip quivered. “Even so I love Dora, and I cannot give her up.” “That is all gammon, Robert,” replied his father, again becoming excited. “If you were older, I might think there was something in it; but you two; such a couple of babies—bah! I say you shall give her up.” Robert turned moodily to the window. “Will you, boy?” “No, sir.” “Very well,” icily responded Mr. Ellerton. “Prepare yourself to start for Germany to-morrow morning. Major Atherton will take charge of you, and place you in an institution, where I hope rigid discipline and a thorough education will bring you to your senses.” Saying which he hastily left the room, again locking the door after him. Robert caught his breath quickly. Could he go so far away from Dora? He asked himself the question over and over again. His brain seemed on fire at the thought, and for a long time he rebelled at the idea.