“Well, is that all?” inquired Ryder, Sr. with a sneer.
“That's all,” replied Jefferson, “I'm going. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” answered his father indifferently; “leave your address with your mother.”
Jefferson left the room, and Ryder, Sr., as if exhausted by the violence of his own outburst, sank back limp in his chair. The crisis he dreaded had come at last. His son had openly defied his authority and was going to marry the daughter of his enemy. He must do something to prevent it; the marriage must not take place, but what could he do? The boy was of age and legally his own master. He could do nothing to restrain his actions unless they put him in an insane asylum. He would rather see his son there, he mused, than married to the Rossmore woman.
Presently there was a timid knock at the library door. Ryder rose from his seat and went to see who was there. To his surprise it was Miss Green.
“May I come in?” asked Shirley.
“Certainly, by all means. Sit down.”
He drew up a chair for her, and his manner was so cordial that it was easy to see she was a welcome visitor.
“Mr. Ryder,” she began in a low, tremulous voice, “I have come to see you on a very important matter. I've been waiting to see you all evening—and as I shall be here only a short time longer I—want to ask you a great favour—perhaps the greatest you were ever asked—I want to ask you for mercy—for mercy to—”