accord! Now you propose to make him and your family
ridiculous, just for a whim. I sent you money to come on here, after
your husband's death, and all your life I have tried to be a good
father to you. What is my reward? You run away and marry the first
irresponsible scamp that asks you; you show no sign of repentance or
feeling until you are in trouble; you come back, at my invitation, and
are made as welcome here as if you had been the most dutiful daughter
in the world, and then--THEN--you propose to bring fresh sorrow and
disgrace upon the parent who lifted you out of your misery, and offered
you a home, and forgot and forgave the past! I am not a rich man, but
what I have has been freely yours, your child has been promised a home
for my lifetime. What more can you ask? But no," said Malcolm, pacing
the floor, "you turn against me; yours is the hand that strikes me down
in my age! Now I tell you, Martie, that things have gone far enough. If
you follow your own course in this affair, you do so at your own risk.
The day you break your engagement, you are no longer my daughter. The
day you let it be known that you are acting in this flighty and
irresponsible way, that DAY your welcome here is withdrawn! I will not
be made the laughing-stock of this town!"

Lydia was in tears; Martie pale. But the younger woman did not speak.
She had been watching her father with slightly dilated eyes and a
rising breast, while he spoke.

"Cliff generous?" Malcolm went on. "Of course he's generous! He
probably doesn't know what to make of it; responsible people don't blow
hot and cold like this! The idea of your going in to him with any such
cock-and-bull story as this! You'll break your engagement, eh?--and go
on to New York for a while, eh?--and then come smiling back, I suppose,
and marry him when it suits your own sweet will? Well, now, I'll tell
you something, young lady," he added, with a sort of confident menace,
"you'll do nothing of the kind! You sit down now and write Clifford a
note, and tell him you were a fool. And don't let me ever hear another
word of this New York nonsense! Upon my word, I don't know how I ever
came to have such children! Other people's children seem to have some
sense, and act like reasonable human beings, but mine--however, you
know what I feel now, Martie. Going into the Bank indeed, and telling
the man you're going to marry that you are 'afraid' this and you
'fancy' that! I'll not have it, I tell yo