es to that.
My affairs and my son's affairs are neither here nor there. I ask you
again, how much do you want for this Consolidation Bill?"

"N-no money will buy it."

"What!"

"C-consent to this marriage, c-consent to this marriage." There was yet
room for Isaac Worthington to be amazed, and for a while he stared up at
Jethro, speechless.

"Is that your price?" he asked at last.

"Th-that's my price," said Jethro.

Isaac Worthington got up and went to the window and stood looking
out above the black mass of trees at the dome outlined against the
star-flecked sky. At first his anger choked him, and he could not
think; he had just enough reason left not to walk out of the door. But
presently habit asserted itself in him, too, and he began to reflect
and calculate in spite of his anger. It is strange that memory plays so
small a part in such a man. Before he allowed his mind to dwell on the
fearful price, he thought of his ambitions gratified; and yet he did
not think then of the woman to whom he had once confided those
ambitions--the woman who was the girl's mother. Perhaps Jethro was
thinking of her.

It may have been--I know not--that Isaac Worthington wondered at this
revelation of the character of Jethro Bass, for it was a revelation. For
this girl's sake Jethro was willing to forego his revenge, was willing
at the end of his days to allow the world to believe that he had sold
out to his enemy, or that he had been defeated by him.

But when he thought of the marriage, Isaac Worthington ground his teeth.
A certain sentiment which we may call pride was so strong in him that he
felt ready to make almost any sacrifice to prevent it. To hinder it
he had quarrelled with his son, and driven him away, and threatened
disinheritance. The price was indeed heavy--the heaviest he could pay.
But the alternative--was not that heavier? To relinquish his dream of
power, to sink for a while into a crippled state; for he had spent large
sums, and one of those periodical depressions had come in the business
of the mills, and those Western investments were not looking so bright
now.

So, with his hands opening and closing in front of him, Isaac
Worthington fought out his battle. A terrible war, that, between
ambition and pride--a war to the knife. The issue may yet have been
undecided when he turned round to Jethro with a sneer which he could not
resist.

"Why doesn't she marry him without my consent?"

In a moment Mr. Wo