ome to Merle Park, you know.
How was I to say anything to her when you didn't have her there?"

"Why didn't you go away then, instead of remaining under a false
pretence? Or why, at any rate, didn't you tell me the truth?"

"And what would you have me to do now?" asked Captain Batsby.

"Go to the d----," said Sir Thomas, as he left the room, and went to
his daughter's chamber.

Gertrude had heard that her father was in the house, and endeavoured
to hurry herself into her clothes while the interview was going on
between him and her father. But she was not yet perfectly arrayed
when her father burst into her room. "Oh, papa," she said, going down
on her knees, "you do mean to forgive us?"

"I mean to do nothing of the kind. I mean to carry you home and have
you locked up."

"But we may be married!"

"Not with my leave. Why didn't you come and ask if you wanted to get
yourselves married? Why didn't you tell me?"

"We were ashamed."

"What has become of Mr. Houston, whom you loved so dearly?"

"Oh, papa!"

"And the Captain was so much attached to Ayala!"

"Oh, papa!"

"Get up, you stupid girl. Why is it that my children are so much more
foolish than other people's? I don't suppose you care for the man in
the least."

"I do, I do. I love him with all my heart."

"And as for him,--how can he care for you when it is but the other
day he was in love with your cousin?"

"Oh, papa!"

"What he wants is my money, of course."

"He has got plenty of money, papa."

"I can understand him, fool as he is. There is something for him to
get. He won't get it, but he might think it possible. As for you,
I cannot understand you at all. What do you expect? It can't be for
love of a hatchet-faced fellow like that, whom you had never seen a
fortnight ago."

"It is more than a month ago, papa."

"Frank Houston was, at any rate, a manly-looking fellow."

"He was a scoundrel," said Gertrude, now standing up for the first
time.

"A good-looking fellow was Frank Houston; that at least may be said
for him," continued the father, determined to exasperate his daughter
to the utmost. "I had half a mind to give way about him, because he
was a manly, outspoken fellow, though he was such an idle dog. If
you'd gone off with him, I could have understood it;--and perhaps
forgiven it," he added.

"He was a scoundrel!" screamed Gertrude, remembering her ineffectual
attempts to make her former lover perform this same journey.