hrank from forcing his daughter to marry Thorn, whom he approved while
she did not.

He might, perhaps, for the girl's sake, have sacrificed his pride; but
there was an obstacle before which his courage melted. If Thorn did not
help, Askew would know his disgrace and Osborn did not expect him to be
merciful. His rancor against Askew had by degrees become a blind,
illogical hate that made it impossible for him to see anything Kit did in
its proper light. Feeling as he did, he imagined Kit would rejoice in the
opportunity for humbling him.

All the same, knowing the fight was hopeless, he struggled against the
conviction that he must beg help from Thorn. In many ways, he liked Alan,
but he was hard and Osborn dreaded his firmness now. Yet he could help
and there was nobody else. It got dark, but Osborn did not move. A faint
breeze came up and moaned about the house, and presently a moonbeam stole
into the room. Osborn sat still, with his head bent and his arms spread
out across the table. Sometimes he burned with anger against Gerald and
sometimes he scarcely felt anything at all.

At length, he got up, and with an effort went upstairs. Half an hour
later, a heavy sleep that came as a reaction after the shock closed his
eyes and banished his troubles for a time.

CHAPTER VIII

GRACE'S CONFIDENCE

On the day after Gerald's return Osborn shut himself up in his library.
If he could raise two thousand pounds, it would save him from agreeing to
the demand Thorn would, no doubt, make, and although he really knew the
thing was impossible, he sought desperately for a way of escape. He was
careless about money, and, for the most part, left his business to his
agent, but he wanted to find out how he stood before he went to Hayes.
There was no obvious reason for his doing so, but he had begun to suspect
that Hayes was not as devoted to his interests as he had thought. His
wife and Grace distrusted the fellow, and although they knew nothing
about business, Osborn admitted that the advice they had sometimes given
him had been sound.

The involved calculations he made gave him fresh ground for disturbance.
It was plain that he could borrow no more money and the sum he had
received for the last mortgage had nearly gone. He might perhaps get
together three or four hundred pounds, at the risk of letting builders
and drainers go unpaid, but this was not enough. After a time, he put
away his books in a fit of hopeless anger