child. I have told her so at
every opportunity, but that love has been honorable and free of deceit
and I know of no law which forbids a man of decent character to plead
his cause. That I should win her love is a marvelous thing, but, thank
God, I have it and hope to hold it till death."

"You have filched it! You have it as a thief has another man's purse or
another man's wife. You have gained favor by arousing discontent for a
Godly home: a home where she is sheltered and where she belongs."

There was a tense silence and Farquaharson's voice was almost gentle
when he next spoke.

"There is more than one way of looking at life--and more than one may be
right. Conscience wanted the wider scope which college would have given
her. She wanted it with all the splendid eagerness of a soul that wishes
to grow and fulfill itself. That rightful privilege you denied her--and
she has not complained. Why shouldn't she want life's fullness instead
of life's meagerness and its breadth instead of its bigotries? Is there
greater nobility in the dull existence of a barnacle that hangs to one
spot than in the flight of a bird? I have sought no quarrel and I have
cruelly set a curb upon my temper, but I have no apologies to make and
no intention of giving her up. I should be glad of your consent, but
with it or without it I shall continue to urge my love. It would be a
pity for you to force a breach."

"There is no question of my forcing a breach." The first words wore
spoken sharply, but as they continued they began again to rush and mount
into an access of passion. "You are as insolent as your words prove you
to be reckless. You have tried to corrupt every idea of righteousness
in my daughter's heart. It would almost appear that you have succeeded.
But I believe God is stronger than Satan. I believe my prayers and the
heritage of Godfearing forefathers will yet save her. As for you, you
are to leave my house and henceforth never to cross my threshold."

"Very well," answered Stuart quietly; then he added: "To what extent am
I indebted to Mr. Eben Tollman for your sudden discovery that I am a
sneak and a coward?"

"That," shouted the invalid, "proves your meanness of spirit. Had Mr.
Tollman held a brief for you he could not have defended you more
stoutly. He, too, was deceived in you, it seems."

"Stuart," suggested the girl, "it's no use. You can't change him now.
Perhaps when he's less angry--"

"Less angry!" screamed the o