," he cried, "the whole length and breadth of the
interest you have in this young man. I have suffered you to elude this
subject too long. I have borne with your proud and sullen reserve too
long. I have been weak and irresolute in times past, but thoroughly
aroused to a sense of my authority and responsibility as a father, as
well as my duty as a man, I command you to tell me all that has passed
between you and Bryant Clinton. Has he proffered you marriage? Has he
exchanged with you the vows of betrothal? Have you gone so far without
my knowledge or approval?"

"I cannot answer such questions, sir," she haughtily replied, the hot
blood rushing into her face and filling her forehead veins with purple.
"You have no right to ask them in this presence. There are some subjects
too sacred for investigation, and this is one. There are limits even to
a father's authority, and I protest against its encroachments."

Those who are slow to arouse to anger are slow to be appeased. The flame
that is long in kindling generally burns with long enduring heat. Mr.
Gleason had borne, with unexampled patience, Mittie's strange and
wayward temper. For the sake of family peace he had sacrificed his own
self-respect, which required deference and obedience in a child. But
having once broken the spell which had chained his tongue, and meeting a
resisting will, his own grew stronger and more determined.

"Do you dare thus to reply to _me_, your father?" cried he; "you will
find there are limits to a father's indulgence, too. Trifle not with my
anger, but give me the answer I require."

"Never, sir, never," cried she, with a mien as undaunted as Charlotte
Corday's, that "angel of assassination," when arraigned before the
tribunal of justice.

"Did you never hear of a discarded child?" said he, his voice sinking
almost to a whisper, it was so choked with passion.

"Yes, sir."

"And do you not fear such a doom?"

"No, sir."

"My husband," exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, laying her hand imploringly on his
shoulder, "be calm. Seek not by violence to break the stubborn will
which kindness cannot bend. Let not our fireside be a scene of domestic
contention, which we shall blush to recall. Leave her to the dark and
sullen secrecy she prefers to our tenderness and sympathy. And, one
thing I beseech you, my husband, suspend your judgment of the character
of Clinton till Louis is able to explain all that is doubtful and
mysterious. He is weary now, and