e he lived in a
state of impotent fury against all the world, against God, but
particularly against the one person to whom he should have been most
grateful--mother. All his friends deserted him in consequence of his
bitter temper--all, that is, except Jake. At last in desperation, he
conceived the idea of going to Europe. At first mother was going with
him, but though he was well able to afford the additional expense he
begrudged it, and, changing his mind, decided to go alone. He sold his
ship, settled his affairs, and went off, and for three years he
traveled round Europe, visiting every eye-doctor of note in all the
big capitals. But it was all no good, and he returned even more soured
than he went away. It was during his absence that I was born."

Again Diane paused. This time it was some moments before she
proceeded.

"To add to his troubles," she at last resumed, in a low tone, "mother
was seriously ill when he got back, and, the day of his return, died
in his presence. After that, whatever his disposition was before, it
seems to have become a thousand times worse. And when he is angry now
he takes a painful delight in discussing the hatred and abhorrence all
the people of Kingston held him in, and the hatred and abhorrence he
returns to mankind in general. By his own accounts he must have been
terrible. However, this has nothing to do with our history.
Personally, I remember nothing but this ranch, but I understand that
he tried to resume his old trade in the Indies. For some reason this
failed him; trouble occurred, and he gave it up for good, and came out
to this country and settled here. Again, to quote his words, 'away
from men and things that drove him distracted.' That," she finished
up, "is a brief sketch of our history."

"And just such a story as I should imagine your father had behind him.
A most unhappy one," Tresler observed quietly. But he was marveling at
the innocence of this child who failed to realize the meaning of
"black ivory."

For a little while there was a silence between them, and both sat
staring out of the window. At last Diane turned, and when she spoke
again there was an ominous quivering of the lips.

"Jack," she said, "I have not told you this without a purpose."

"No, I gathered that, dear," he returned. "And this profound purpose?"
he questioned, smiling.

Her answer was a long time in coming. What she had to do was so hard.

"Father doesn't like you," she said at last i