-man--as I hope to be--"

He held out his hand, and she would have taken it, clung to it, but her
father strode between them, and with a harsh laugh, exclaimed:

"You fool! Don't you see that he is wanting to get rid of you, that he
is only too glad of the excuse? Great God! have you no touch of
womanliness in you, no sense of shame--"

She swept him aside with a gesture, and advancing to Stafford, looked
straight into his eyes.

"Is--is it true?" she asked hoarsely. "Tell me! Is what he says true?
That--that rather than marry me you would go out into the world
penniless, to earn your living--you? Answer! Do--do you love me?"

His eyes dropped, his teeth clenched, and the moment of silence hung
heavy in the room. She turned from him, her hand going to her brow with
a gesture of weariness and despair.

"Let us go," she said to her father. "He does not love me--he never
did. I thought that perhaps in time--in time--"

The sight of her humiliation was more than Stafford could bear. He
strode to her and laid his hand on hers.

"Wait--Maude," he said, hoarsely. "I must lay the title aside; I cannot
accept your father's money. I must work, as other and better men have
done, are doing. If you will wait until I have a home to offer you--"

She turned to him, her face glowing, her eyes flashing.

"I will go with you now, now--this moment, to poverty--to peril,
anywhere. Oh, Stafford, can't you see, can't you value the love I offer
you?"

When her father had led her away, Stafford sank into a chair and hid
his face in his hands. He was no longer free, the shackles were upon
him. And he was practically penniless. What should he do?

He got his pipe and felt in his pocket for his matches. As he did so he
came upon Mr. "Henery" Joffler's envelope. He looked at it vacantly for
a moment or two; then he laughed, a laugh that was not altogether one
of derision or amusement.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Ida had found her life at Laburnum Villa hard enough in all conscience
before the night of the concert, but it became still harder after Mr.
Joseph's condescending avowal of love to her and her inevitably
scornful refusal. She avoided him as much as possible, but she was
forced to meet him at the family breakfast, a meal of a cold and dismal
character, generally partaken of by the amiable family in a morose and
gloomy silence or to an accompaniment of irritable and nagging personal
criticism. Mr. Heron, who suffered from indi