"Just as I shall continue to follow her all my life, Mr. Wetherell," I
replied warmly, "wherever you may take her. I told you on board the
_Orizaba_, months ago, that I loved her: well, I love her ten thousand
times more now. She loves me--won't you hear her tell you so? Why then
should you endeavour to keep us apart?"

"Because an alliance with you, sir, is distasteful to me in every
possible way. I have other views for my daughter, you must learn." Here
Phyllis could keep silence no longer, and broke in with--"If you mean by
that that you will force me into this hateful marriage with a man I
despise, papa, you are mistaken. I will marry no one but Mr. Hatteras,
and so I warn you."

"Silence, Miss! How dare you adopt that tone with me! You will do as I
wish in this and all other matters, and so we'll have no more talk about
it. Now, Mr. Hatteras, you have heard what I have to say, and I warn you
that, if you persist in this conduct, I'll see if something can't be
found in the law to put a stop to it. Meanwhile, if you show yourself in
my grounds again, I'll have my servants throw you out into the street!
Good-day."

Unjust as his conduct was to me, there was nothing for it but to submit,
so picking up my hat I bade poor little frightened Phyllis farewell, and
went towards the door. But before taking my departure I was determined
to have one final shot at her irascible parent, so I said, "Mr.
Wetherell, I have warned you before, and I do so again: your daughter
loves me, and, come what may, I will make her my wife. She is her own
mistress, and you cannot force her into marrying any one against her
will. Neither can you prevent her marrying me if she wishes it. You will
be sorry some day that you have behaved like this to me."

But the only answer he vouchsafed was a stormy one. "Leave my house this
instant," he said. "Not another word, sir, or I'll call my servants to
my assistance!"

The stately old butler opened the front door for me, and assuming as
dignified an air as was possible, I went down the drive and passed out
into the street.

When I reached home again Beckenham was out, for which I was not sorry,
as I wanted to have a good quiet think by myself. So lighting a cigar, I
pulled a chair into the verandah and fell to work. But I could make
nothing of the situation, save that, by my interview this morning, my
position with the father was, if possible, rendered even more hopeless
than before. Who was th