a precious
first love. And now it must all go. There was no other course open to
her, she told herself; and in this decision was revealed her father's
consummate devilishness. He understood her straightforward pride, if
he had no appreciation of it. Then, suddenly, there came a feeling of
resentment and hatred for the author of her misfortune, and she sat up
with the tears only half dry on her cheeks. Her father's dead eyes
were upon her, and their hateful depths seemed to be searching her.
She knew she must submit to his will. He mastered her as he mastered
everybody else.

"It is not what I will," she said, in a low voice. "I understand; our
lives must remain apart." Then anger brought harshness into her tone.
"I would have given him up of my own accord had I known. I could not
have thrust the shame of my birth upon him. But you--you have kept
this from me all these years, saving it, in your heartless way, for
such a moment as this. Why have you told me? Why do you keep me at
your side? Oh, I hate you!"

"Yes, yes, of course you do," her father said, quite unmoved by her
attack. "Now you are tasting something--only something--of the
bitterness of my life. And it is good that you should. The parent's
sins--the children. Yes, you certainly can feel----"

"For heaven's sake leave me!" the girl broke in, unable to stand the
taunting--the hideous enjoyment of the man.

"Not yet; I haven't done. This man----" The rancher leant over the
bed, and one hand felt its way over Tresler's body until it rested
over his heart. "At one time I was glad he came here. I had reasons.
His money was as good as in my pocket. He would have bought stock from
me at a goodish profit. Now I have changed my mind. I would sacrifice
that. It would be better perhaps--perhaps. No, he is not dead yet. But
he may die, eh, Diane? It would be better were he to die; it would
save your explanation to him. Yes, let him die. You are not going to
marry him. You would not care to see him marry another, as, of course,
he will. Let him die. Love? Love? Why, it would be kindness to
yourselves. Yes, let him die."

"You--you--wretch!" Diane was on her feet, and her eyes blazed down
upon the cruel, working face before her. The cry was literally wrung
from her. "And that is the man who was ready to give his life for your
interests. That is the man whose cleverness and bravery you even
praised. You want me to refuse him the trifling aid I can give him.
You are