om the evil that she did? She owes it
to you, to me, and to her brother."

"I would hardly wish her to come to me in payment of such a debt."

"There is no room left," said Mr. Wharton angrily, "for soft
sentimentality. Well;--she must take her bed as she makes it. It
is very hard on me, I know. Considering what she used to be, it is
marvellous to me that she should have so little idea left of doing
her duty to others."

Arthur Fletcher found that the barrister was at the moment too angry
to hear reason, or to be made to understand anything of the feelings
of mixed love and admiration with which he himself was animated at
the moment. He was obliged therefore to content himself with assuring
the father that he did not intend to give up the pursuit of his
daughter.

CHAPTER LXXV

The Great Wharton Alliance

When Mr. Wharton got home on that day he said not a word to Emily as
to Arthur Fletcher. He had resolved to take various courses,--first
to tell her roundly that she was neglecting her duty to herself and
to her family, and that he would no longer take her part and be
her good friend unless she would consent to marry the man whom she
had confessed that she loved. But as he thought of this he became
aware,--first that he could not carry out such a threat, and then
that he would lack even the firmness to make it. There was something
in her face, something even in her dress, something in her whole
manner to himself, which softened him and reduced him to vassalage
directly he saw her. Then he determined to throw himself on her
compassion and to implore her to put an end to all this misery by
making herself happy. But as he drew near home he found himself
unable to do even this. How is a father to beseech his widowed
daughter to give herself away in a second marriage? And therefore
when he entered the house and found her waiting for him, he said
nothing. At first she looked at him wistfully,--anxious to learn by
his face whether her lover had been with him. But when he spoke not a
word, simply kissing her in his usual quiet way, she became cheerful
in manner and communicative. "Papa," she said, "I have had a letter
from Mary."

"Well, my dear."

"Just a nice chatty letter,--full of Everett, of course."

"Everett is a great man now."

"I am sure that you are very glad that he is what he is. Will you see
Mary's letter?" Mr. Wharton was not specially given to reading young
ladies' correspondence, and did