ker did not like the idea of accepting direct charity, but,
nevertheless, on going away did take the five sovereigns which Mr.
Wharton offered to her.

After such an interview as that the dinner between the father and the
daughter was not very happy. She was eaten up by remorse. Gradually
she had learned how frightful was the thing she had done in giving
herself to a man of whom she had known nothing. And it was not only
that she had degraded herself by loving such a man, but that she had
been persistent in clinging to him though her father and all his
friends had told her of the danger which she was running. And now
it seemed that she had destroyed her father as well as herself! All
that she could do was to be persistent in her prayer that he would
let her go. "I have done it," she said that night, "and I could bear
it better, if you would let me bear it alone." But he only kissed
her, and sobbed over her, and held her close to his heart with his
clinging arms,--in a manner in which he had never held her in their
old happy days.

He took himself to his own rooms before Lopez returned, but she of
course had to bear her husband's presence. As she had declared to
her father more than once, she was not afraid of him. Even though
he should strike her,--though he should kill her,--she would not be
afraid of him. He had already done worse to her than anything that
could follow. "Mrs. Parker has been here to-day," she said to him
that night.

"And what had Mrs. Parker to say?"

"That you had ruined her husband."

"Exactly. When a man speculates and doesn't win of course he throws
the blame on some one else. And when he is too much of a cur to come
himself, he sends his wife."

"She says you owe him money."

"What business have you to listen to what she says? If she comes
again, do not see her. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand. She saw papa also. If you owe him money, should
it not be paid?"

"My dearest love, everybody who owes anything to anybody should
always pay it. That is so self-evident that one would almost suppose
that it might be understood without being enunciated. But the virtue
of paying your debts is incompatible with an absence of money. Now,
if you please, we will not say anything more about Mrs. Parker. She
is not at any rate a fit companion for you."

"It was you who introduced me to her."

"Hold your tongue about her,--and let that be an end of it. I little
knew what a world of torme