"When I wouldn't do it," the scared voice went on, "I thought he gave me a terrible look." He covered his eyes with his hand. "A terrible look."
"Your uncle?" demanded Dr. McPherson.
"Yes," breathed Frederik. "Och! God! I won't forget that look!" he cried excitedly, uncovering his eyes again. "And as I started from the room—he blotted out—I mean I saw him blot out—Then I left the photograph on the desk, and——"
"Ah!" exclaimed the doctor triumphantly. "That's how Willem came by it. Had you never had this impulse before—to give up Kathrien—to let her have the cottage?"
"Not much—I hadn't!" said Frederik decidedly, walking back and forth a moment.
Then, looking toward the desk, he reached out his hand until it touched the back of a chair beside it, and, giving the chair a quick pull out of what was evidently to him a danger zone, he sat down.
"I told you some one else was thinking for me," he said. "I don't want to give her up. I love her." (His eyes went dark.) "But if she's going to turn against me for—well, I'm not going to sit here and cry about it. But I'll tell you one thing: from this time I propose to think for myself. I've done with this house," he cried, getting up. "I'd like to sell it along with the rest and let a stranger"—he flung the chair recklessly against the desk—"raze it to the ground.
"When I walk out of here to-night she can have it."
He looked thoughtfully at the desk a moment.
"Oh, I wouldn't sleep here—I give her the house because—well, I——"