ney of mine."

"But, father, give it to me. It'll make no real difference to you. You
are rich enough--"

"Not a penny, my girl--not a penny. Let Ormsby pay the money. Thank
heaven, it's his business, not ours. Your animosity against him is most
unreasonable. Because you had a difference of opinion over a lad who
couldn't hold a candle to him as an upright, honorable man--"

"You sha'n't speak like that, father."

"But I shall speak! I'm tired of your pale face, and your weeping in
secret, turning the whole house into a place of mourning. And what for? A
man who would never have married you in any case. His grandfather
disowned him, he wouldn't have gained my consent, and the chances are a
hundred to one you would have married Ormsby. But, now, you suddenly
insult my friend--you see nobody--we can't talk about the war--and, damn
me! what else is there to talk about? You call yourself a soldier's
daughter, and you're going to break your heart over a man who couldn't
play the straight game. Why, his own father and mother can't say a good
word for him. Yet, Ormsby's willing to pay seven thousand dollars to
stifle a public exposure, just for your sake. Why, girl, it's
magnificent! I wouldn't pay seven cents. Ormsby is coming here, and
you'll have to be civil to him. Write and tell him so."

"Very well, father," sighed Dora, to whom the anger of her parent was a
very rare thing. There was some justice in his point of view, although it
was harsh justice. For Dick's sake, she could not afford to incense
Ormsby. She swallowed her pride and humbled her heart, and, after much
deliberation, wrote a reply that was short and to the point.

"Miss Dundas expects to receive Mr. Ormsby as her father wishes."

CHAPTER XVI

MR. TRIMMER COMES HOME

"Mr. Trimmer is back."

The words went around among the servants at Asherton Hall in a whisper;
and everybody was immediately alert, as at the return of a master.

Mr. Trimmer was old Herresford's valet, who had been away for a long
holiday--the first for many years. Trimmer was a power for good and
evil--some said a greater power than Herresford himself, over whom he had
gained a mental ascendency.

Mr. Trimmer was sixty at least. Yet, his face bore scarce a wrinkle, his
back was as straight as any young man's. His hair was coal black--Mrs.
Ripon declared that he dyed it. And he was about Herresford's height,
spare of figure, and always faultlessly dressed in close-fitti