Ella was very much surprised to find her father reading in the parlor when she returned home. "Why papa!" she cried, with misgivings of trouble, "are you not well?"
"I cannot say that I am, Ella, but my pain is mental rather than physical.
Mr. Houghton dismissed me with insults from his service this morning."
Ella flushed scarlet. "Where was young Mr. Houghton?" she asked indignantly.
"Sent to Coventry, probably. He evidently did not dare put in an appearance."
She sat down and drew a long breath.
"Ella," said her father very gravely, "I shall not treat you as a child. You have compelled me to recognize that you are no longer the little girl that had grown so gradually and lovingly at my side."
"Papa," cried Ella, "I am not less lovingly at your side to-day."
"I hope so. I shall believe it if, with the spirit which becomes your birth, you do take your place at my side in unrelenting hostility to these Houghtons who have heaped insult upon us, the son by rash, headlong action which he would soon regret, and the father by insufferable insolence. But you shall judge for yourself." And he began, as Mr. Houghton had done, to repeat what had passed between them.
At the same terrible words which had smitten George, she also cried,
"Papa, did you say you would rather bury me?"
"Yes," said the veteran sternly, "and I would rather be buried myself. You must remember that I am at heart a soldier and not a trader. I could not survive dishonor to you or myself; and any relation except that of enmity to these Houghtons would humiliate me into the very mire. What's more, Mr. Houghton feels in the same way about his son. I am not one whit more averse than he is. He virtually said that he would disinherit and cast out his son should he continue to offend by seeking your hand. I, in return, told him that if the sentimental boy had even the trace of a gentleman in his anatomy he would leave us alone. Now you can measure the gravity of the situation. The name of our ancestors, the sacred cause for which I and so many that I loved perilled and lost life, forbid that I should take any other course. Turn from this folly and all will be serene and happy soon. I can obtain a position elsewhere. Surely, Ella, you are too true a Southern girl to have given your heart unsought, unasked to your knowledge till last night. Your very pride should rescue you from such a slough as this."