artbreaking sacrifices she must make. Nor did she distrust a
syllable; nor would she ask for explanation. The latter she would avoid;
it was enough that Storri held her father at his horrid mercy. As
against the setting forth in detail of Storri's cruel power she
instinctively closed her ears as she would have shut her eyes against a
fearsome sight. Dorothy had never a question; and when Mr. Harley was
done she seemed simply to bow to the will of events too strong for her
to cope with.

"But you must never ask me to marry that man!" cried Dorothy. There went
a tremor through her words that marked how deep of root was the feeling
that prompted them. "I couldn't, wouldn't marry him! Before that, I
would die--yes, and die again! You must not ask it!" and she lifted up
her face, all wrung with pain and anxious terror.

"I shall never ask it!" declared Mr. Harley; and he spoke stoutly, for
the worst was over and his heart was coming back. This gave Dorothy a
better confidence, and she began to hope that things in the end might
come fairer than they threatened. "No," repeated Mr. Harley with even
greater courage, and smoothing her black, thick hair in a fatherly way,
"you shall never be asked to marry the scoundrel. That I promise; and
let him do his worst."

And now, when both were measurably recovered from the shame and the
shock of it, Mr. Harley began to elaborate. He went no further, however,
than just to point out how nothing was really required of Dorothy beyond
those common courtesies good women exhibit to what men the respectable
chances of existence bring into their society. He said nothing, asked
nothing concerning her love for Richard: he appeared to consider that
love admitted, and found no fault with it. What he impressed upon
Dorothy was the present danger of her love's display, and how his safety
rested upon her not meeting with Richard for a space. Surely that might
be borne; it would not be for long. Given room wherein to work, he, Mr.
Harley, would find some pathway out. Also, it would be unwise to say
aught of what had taken place to Dorothy's mother. Mr. Harley and
Dorothy would keep it secret from both Mrs. Hanway-Harley and Senator
Hanway. Storri would not broach the subject to Mrs. Hanway-Harley; he
could not without revealing more than he desired known.

"Nor will the rascal do more," observed Mr. Harley, with the hope of
adding to the fortitude of Dorothy, "than come here now and then to dine
or