When Mr. Delaney firmly reiterated his assertion, that she should never be permitted to leave Delaney House unless she solemnly pledged herself to silence regarding her sojourn there, Aline’s young heart was filled with the bitterest anger and rebellion. She was unaccustomed to absolute control. Her mother’s efforts in that direction were weak and fitful, her father’s love made him blind to the inherent obstinacy of her nature. When Oran Delaney, strong and masterful as he was by nature, undertook to dictate to this spoiled, petted child, he found that he incurred a serious risk. I am ashamed to record this of my heroine--such characters are expected to realize our ideal of perfection--but she flew into a passion. She scolded Mr. Delaney in the bitterest terms her sharp little tongue could devise. She reproached him angrily, laying all the blame of her presence in the house upon his broad shoulders, and utterly ignoring her share in it. She was half-maddened by her sense of wrong and injury, and when she found that all her remonstrances broke against his strong, firm will, like water against a rock, she relapsed into violent hysterics. She was not your ideal of a heroine, reader, nor mine, nor Oran Delaney’s! His proud lip curled, half in pity, half in scorn, at her passionate ravings. He was not at all frightened by her anger. He said to himself that it was the impotent, unreasonable anger of a child, and that she had a decidedly shrewish temper; but at the same time he could not help seeing how beautiful she was in her anger and spite. Her blue eyes sparkled through the tears that filled them, a crimson color glowed upon her cheeks. Her voice, even at its sharpest, trembled with her sense of injury, and had a certain pathos that made it sound musical. Her whole proud spirit was aroused. She defied him to carry out his assertion, and then, in unreasoning contradiction of herself, she declared that she would remain at Delaney House until her bright eyes were dim, and her dark hair gray, before she would take the oath of silence he demanded of her. She would never submit to such tyranny and injustice. If Aline had been well and strong, Mr. Delaney would have laughed at her anger; but he grew apprehensive now. It was not well for her to excite herself. He regretted his precipitancy in acquainting her with his intentions. He wished that he had temporized with her. “But how was I to know that she would take it so hardly?” he muttered to himself. He was greatly relieved when Mrs. Griffin suddenly put in an appearance. She was honestly aghast at the state of the patient, and, while hurriedly mixing a composing draught, she gave loud utterance to her anxiety. “This will be the death of her! A fever will be sure to set in. I cannot imagine what you have said to excite her so much, Mr. Delaney. It was very imprudent.”