Terror of her father--of them all--swept over her, chilling the very recesses of her being. As the habiliments of her august relatives became more distinct, she grew calmer. With slow and measured tread they walked, while to their right minced Betty, a small abigail, swaying a lantern. "It is the march of pride coming to crush me!" she cried. Then the bells began to peal again--"Pride--pride" they seemed to mock. "Love must die for pride!" [Illustration] Chapter _Two_ [Illustration: I Rule by Right] On the wreck of many social thrones--for the town named after the Duke of York passed through numerous transitions the world knows nothing of--Patricia's aunt, Miss Georgina Knickerbocker, had elected to raise her sceptre. "I rule by right" was her dictum. "My family is old; few families are older or more aristocratic. The famous Judge Josiah Knickerbocker was my father, and my brother Jonathan owns Knickerbocker Mansion, the finest dwelling in York." No potentate ever wore a crown more blissfully than Miss Georgina. Tall, beak-nosed, gruff-voiced she was, always with her younger sister, Miss Julie, in tow and under good control--Miss Julie, who smirked and copied her when family pride was concerned, though she had her own misgivings and opinions on other matters. Miss Julie even had emotions and sentimentalities of her own, which she struggled to keep bottled up before her relatives and the world, uncovering them only in secret, as she did her jasmine scent and pomatum pot. The little woman's real name was Jerusalem, bestowed upon her at a time when the judge her father's religious spirit was in its blossoming period. One great grief of her life was that she had given way to wickedness and changed this outlandish cognomen. She often brought the subject up before Dr. Slumnus, as he stopped in for a social game of chess. "Indeed, Miss Julie," he would answer soothingly, "the name is so Christian that it sounds heathenish. No well-conducted female should presume to bear the name of the holy city. Nay, ma'am, it would have come perilously near sacrilege to retain it!" Thus assured, Miss Julie would give herself over to the excitement of endeavoring to queen a pawn. Later, in her chamber, ready to blow out her candle, alone with the crowd of memories waiting to conduct her to the land of dreams, she shuddered. Her father's stern eyes would glare at her reproachfully; sometimes she would try to mock at them, remembering the words of Dr. Slumnus--but oftener a tear or two trickled down her faded cheeks and stained the strings of her nightcap.