ramour, girl; go where you will. You never
enter my door again." And he turned his back furiously upon her.

This terrible denunciation overpowered poor Mary's resolution; she clung
to him in terror. "Oh, mercy, mercy, papa! I'll explain to _you_, have
pity on your child!"

Bartley flung her so roughly from him that she nearly fell, "You are my
child no more."

But at that moment in strode William Hope, looking seven feet high, and
his eyes blazing. "Liar and hypocrite," he roared, "_she never was your
child_!" Then, changing to a tone of exquisite love, and stretching out
both his hands to Mary, "SHE IS MINE!"

Mary, being now between the two men, turned swiftly first to one, then to
the other, and with woman's infallible eye knew her own flesh and blood
in that half-moment. She uttered a cry of love and rapture that went
through every heart that heard it; and she flung herself in a moment upon
her father's bosom.

He whirled her round like a feather on to his right arm, then faced both
her enemies, Clifford and Bartley, with haughty defiance, head thrown
back, and eyes that flashed black lightning in defense of his child.

CHAPTER XVII.

LOVERS' QUARRELS.

It was a living picture. The father protecting his child like an eagle;
Bartley cooled in a moment, and hanging his head apart, gloomy and
alarmed at the mad blunder rage had betrayed him into; Colonel Clifford
amazed and puzzled, and beginning to see the consequences of all this;
Julia clasping her hands in rapture and thrilling interest at so
romantic an incident; Fitzroy beaming with delight at his sweetheart
being cleared; and, to complete the picture, the villainous face of
Leonard Monckton, disguised as an old man, showed itself for a moment
sinister and gloomy; for now all hope of pecuniary advantage to him was
gone, and nothing but revenge was on the cards, and he could not see his
way clear to that.

But Hope was no posture-maker; he turned the next moment and said a word
or two to all present.

"Yes, this is Grace Hope, my daughter. We were very poor, and her life
was in danger; I saw nothing else but that; my love was stronger than my
conscience; I gave her to that man upon a condition which he has now
broken. He saved her life and was kind to her. I thanked him; I thank him
still, and I did my best to repay him. But now he has trusted to
appearances, and not to her; he has belied and outraged her publicly. But
I am as proud of her as