ng his demise; it occurred
to her that the stubborn old admiral was striving to buy that which he
might have had for a different asking.

She read the admiral's letter for the twentieth time--and from the
thick white page her glance went to her child. Would he be welcome in
that stern old sea dog's home? Would his great-grandfather forget the
bar sinister of little Don's birth and would her own misfortune be
viewed by him with the tenderness and perfect understanding accorded
her by old Caleb? She did not think so; and with the remembrance of
her dead father, the flames of revolt leaped in her heart. He had been
loyal to her and she would be loyal to him. No, no! She was not yet
prepared to come fawning to the feet of that fierce old man who had
robbed her father of his happiness. What right had he to expect
forgiveness, _sans_ the asking, _sans_ an acknowledgment of his
heartlessness?

With a bitter smile she wrote him a long letter, relating in detail
the incident of her marriage, the birth of her child, her standing in
Port Agnew society and her belief that all of this rendered acceptance
of his invitation impossible, if she were to act with deference to his
point of view and still remain loyal to the memory of her dead father.
For these reasons she declined, thanked him for his kindness and
remained his very sincerely. When she had posted this letter she felt
better, and immediately took up the case of the McKayes.

Until that moment she had not considered seriously the possibility of
a marriage with the young Laird of Port Agnew as a means of
humiliating these women who had humiliated her. The thought had
occurred to her in the telegraph office and at the moment had held for
her a certain delightful fascination; prior to that meeting her
resolution not to permit Donald McKaye to share her uncertain fortunes
had been as adamant. But long and bitter reflection upon the problem
thrust upon her by her grandfather had imbued her with a clearer,
deeper realization of the futility of striving to please everybody in
this curious world, of the cruelty of those who seek to adjust to
their point of view that of another fully capable of adjusting his
own; of the appalling lack of appreciation with which her piteous
sacrifice would meet from the very persons who shrank from the
ignominy incident to non-sacrifice oft the part of her whom they held
in open contempt!

Donald McKaye was not unintelligent. He was a man, grown,