a word she followed them up the creaking oaken stair that rose
from a niche near the wall of the ingle-nook.

"Father," said Adrian when the massive door had closed behind her and
they were left alone--"father--for I suppose that I must call you so."

"There is not the slightest necessity," broke in Ramiro; "facts, my dear
son, need not always be paraded in the cold light of day--fortunately.
But, proceed."

"What does all this mean?"

"I wish I could tell you. It appears to mean, however, that without any
effort upon your part, for you seem to me a young man singularly devoid
of resource, your love affairs are prospering beyond expectation."

"I have had nothing to do with the business; I wash my hands of it."

"That is as well. Some sensitive people might think they need a deal
of washing. You young fool," he went on, dropping his mocking manner,
"listen to me. You are in love with this pink and white piece of goods,
and I have brought her here for you to marry."

"And I refuse to marry her against her will."

"As to that you can please yourself. But somebody has got to marry
her--you, or I."

"You--_you!_" gasped Adrian.

"Quite so. The adventure is not one, to be frank, that attracts me. At
my age memories are sufficient. But material interests must be attended
to, so if you decline--well, I am still eligible and hearty. Do you see
the point?"

"No, what is it?"

"It is a sound title to the inheritance of the departed Hendrik Brant.
That wealth we might, it is true, obtain by artifice or by arms; but how
much better that it should come into the family in a regular fashion,
thereby ousting the claim of the Crown. Things in this country are
disturbed at present, but they will not always be disturbed, for in the
end somebody must give way and order will prevail. Then questions might
be asked, for persons in possession of great riches are always the mark
of envy. But if the heiress is married to a good Catholic and loyal
subject of the king, who can cavil at rights sanctified by the laws of
God and man? Think it over, my dear Adrian, think it over. Step-mother
or wife--you can take your choice."

With impotent rage, with turmoil of heart and torment of conscience,
Adrian did think it over. All that night he thought, tossing on his
rat-haunted pallet, while without the snow whirled and the wind beat. If
he did not marry Elsa, his father would, and there could be no doubt as
to which of these alternatives