narrow-minded,
cruel-tempered, cynical man--jealous of youth's joys. But _I_ would not be
so unjust as to stamp you with these qualities because of that!"

He looked straight at me, startled. "I may be all these things," he said.
"You are probably right."

"Then, oh, please don't be!" I went on quickly. "I want you to be kind to
us. We--oh, we do, do so wish to be happy, and we are both so young, and
life will be so utterly blank and worthless for all those years to the end
if you part us now."

"I did not say I would part you," he said, coldly. "I merely said I
refused to give Robert any allowance, and I shall leave everything in my
power away from the title. If you like to get married on those terms you
are welcome to."

Then I told him that I loved Robert far too much to like the thought of
spoiling his future.

"We came into each other's lives," I said. "We did not ask it of fate, she
pushed us there, and I tried not to speak to him because I had promised a
friend of mine I would not, as she said she liked him herself, and it made
us both dreadfully unhappy; and every day we mattered more to each other
until yesterday, when I thought he had gone away for good and I was too
miserable for words, we met in the park, and it was no use pretending any
longer. Oh, you _can't_ want to crush out all joy and life for us, just
because I have red hair! It is so horribly unjust."

"You beautiful siren!" he said. "You are coaxing me. How you know how to
use your charms and your powers, and what _man_ could resist your tempting
face!"

I rose in passionate scorn.

"How dare you say such things to me!" I said. "I would not stoop to coax
you. I will not again ask you for any boon. I only wanted you to do me the
justice of realizing you had made a mistake in my character--to do your
brother the justice of conceding the point that he has some right to love
whom he chooses. But keep your low thoughts to yourself--evil, cruel man!
Robert and I have got something that is better than all your lands and
money--a dear, great love, and I am glad--glad he will not in the future
receive anything that is in your gift. I shall give him the gift of
myself, and we shall do very well without you;" and I walked to the door,
leaving him huddled in the chair.

Thus ended our talk on justice.

Never has my head been so up in the air. I am sure had Cleopatra been
dragged to Rome in Augustus's triumph she would not have walked with more
pri