e to Dorothy made him eager to offer amends. The active evil in all Sir
George's wrong-doing was the fact that he conscientiously thought he was
in the right. Many a man has gone to hell backward--with his face honestly
toward heaven. Sir George had not spoken to Dorothy since the scene
wherein the key to Bowling Green Gate played so important a part.

"Doll," said Sir George, "I thought you were at the stile with a man. I
was mistaken. It was the Faxton girl. I beg your pardon, my daughter. I
did you wrong."

"You do me wrong in many matters, father," replied Dorothy.

"Perhaps I do," her father returned, "perhaps I do, but I mean for the
best. I seek your happiness."

"You take strange measures at times, father, to bring about my happiness,"
she replied.

"Whom God loveth He chasteneth," replied Sir George, dolefully.

"That manner of loving may be well enough for God," retorted Dorothy with
no thought of irreverence, "but for man it is dangerous. Whom man loves he
should cherish. A man who has a good, obedient daughter--one who loves
him--will not imprison her, and, above all, he will not refuse to speak to
her, nor will he cause her to suffer and to weep for lack of that love
which is her right. A man has no right to bring a girl into this world and
then cause her to suffer as you--as you--"

She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine eloquence--tears.
One would have sworn she had been grievously injured that night.

"But I am older than you, Doll, and I know what is best for your
happiness," said Sir George.

"There are some things, father, which a girl knows with better, surer
knowledge than the oldest man living. Solomon was wise because he had so
many wives from whom he could absorb wisdom."

"Ah, well!" answered Sir George, smiling in spite of himself, "you will
have the last word."

"Confess, father," she retorted quickly, "that you want the last word
yourself."

"Perhaps I do want it, but I'll never have it," returned Sir George; "kiss
me, Doll, and be my child again."

"That I will right gladly," she answered, throwing her arms about her
father's neck and kissing him with real affection. Then Sir George said
good night and started to leave. At the door he stopped, and stood for a
little time in thought.

"Dorothy," said he, speaking to Lady Crawford, "I relieve you of your duty
as a guard over Doll. She may go and come when she chooses."

"I thank you, George," said Aunt Dorot