prung up in his
heart against that man; not so much because he had blasted the happiness
of his child, as because he had torn from _him_ all that he had clung to
in life.

Rust walked to the fire-place, turned his back to it, and without uttering
a word, faced the stranger, who eyed him from head to foot with a cool,
supercilious stare; then looked at the girl, as if seeking an explanation.

The pause, however, was broken by Rust himself, as he pointed with his
thin finger to their visitor, and inquired of his daughter: 'Is _that_ the
man?'

The girl's face became ghastly pale; her lips moved, but she dared not
raise her eyes; for she could not encounter the keen, inquiring look which
she knew was fixed upon her.

'Answer my question,' said he, sternly. 'This is no time for tampering
with my patience.'

His daughter attempted to speak. She trembled from head to foot; but not a
word escaped her. So intense was her anguish, that it awoke a spark of
better feeling in the young man; for confronting Rust, he said in a bold
voice: 'If you have any questions to ask respecting me, address them to
_me_, not to _her_.'

'I will,' replied Rust, fixing upon him an eye that fairly glowed; 'for
you should best know your own character. Are you the cold-blooded
scoundrel who, taking advantage of that girl's confiding disposition, of
the absence of her father, stole like a thief into his house; by lies, by
false oaths, and damning hypocritical professions of love, won her
affections; blighted her, and then left her what I blush to name? You wish
the question addressed to you; you have it. I'll have your reply.'

Withering like a parched leaf; shrinking as if a serpent were in his path;
with a face which changed from white to red, from red to white, the
stranger met these questions. But Rust's eye never left his face. There
was no trace of anger nor emotion, in his marble features. He merely said:
'I want your answer.'

With a face heavy with guilt; with a voice that shook even while it
assumed a tone of boldness; the stranger demanded: 'Who are you? and what
right have you to question me thus?'

'Not _much_ right,' replied Rust; 'I'm not even a rival suitor; I'm _only_
this girl's father. Perhaps you will answer me now.'

The other was silent. Rust turned to his daughter, and said: 'This man has
suddenly become dumb. Is this he of whom we spoke? An answer I must have,
and a true one. Do not add a lie to the infamy which alre