"Then I suppose I must marry Mr. Spolger," said Florry, dolefully drying her eyes.
"That is as you please," replied Marson, rising to his feet and walking slowly to and fro. "I don't want to sell my child for money. I simply place the case before you, and you are free to refuse or accept as you please. Yes means prosperity, no means ruin, and the choice is entirely in your hands."
Florry said nothing, but sat on the hearthrug twisting her handkerchief and staring at the fire.
"I would like to say one word, Florry," said Judith, bending forward. "If you did not intend to marry Mr. Spolger you should have said so at first; now the wedding-day is fixed for next week, your dresses are ready, the guests are invited, so it would be rather hard on the poor man to dash the cup of happiness from his lips just as he is tasting it."
"Nevertheless," said Marson, stopping in his walk, "late as it is, Florry, if you think that you cannot make Jackson Spolger a good wife, I will break off the match without delay."
"But that means ruin," cried Florry, tearfully.
"Yes!" said Marson, curtly, "ruin."
Florry sat thinking as deeply as her shallow little brain would allow her. She saw plainly that if she refused to marry Mr. Spolger, she would never gain her fathers consent to her marriage with Melstane, and as a refusal meant ruin without any chance of obtaining the wish of her heart, she did not see what was to be gained by being perverse. Shallow, frivolous, selfish as she was, she saw all this quite plainly, and, moreover, being too timid to brook her father's displeasure, she made up her mind to yield. Rising to her feet, she stole towards her father, as he stood in gloomy silence looking out on the wintry lawn, and threw her arms round his neck.
"Papa," she whispered, "I will marry Mr. Spolger."
"Of your own free will?" he asked, a trifle sternly.