CHAPTER XXXII
AN EASY FALL
ONE moment," Copley put in. "If Sir George has explained matters, then, perhaps I can speak freely. Your father is indebted to me—I will not say anything about the amount, for that would all be wiped out and we could start on a much better footing if you would only take another view of the case. If you persist——"
"You can take that for granted," May said.
"Would you like to think it over?" Copley suggested.
"Oh, I have thought it over. I have had all day to think it over. I see you mean to force me to speak more plainly still. You have a hold over my father. He is deeply in your debt. You have lent him a large sum of money, not out of any feeling of friendship or generosity, but simply because you thought you could force me to marry you. Did any one ever hear of such a situation except on the stage? I know that if I do not change my mind you will visit your displeasure upon my father, you will make it impossible for us to remain at Haredale Park any longer. It seems a strange thing that a man should be so lost to all sense of decency as to use weapons like these to compel a girl to marry him. But it hasn't stopped there. My father has told me quite plainly, even brutally, that unless I make this sacrifice I am no longer to consider myself as his daughter. I must go out as if I were a mere underling to earn my own living. Very well; I am ready to do so. No, I don't want words from either of you. My mind is made up, and there is no more to be said."
May turned away, and left the library with her head held high and a bright colour burning her cheeks. She was very near to tears, but was grateful for the pride which had carried her through this trying interview without the semblance of a breakdown. When they were alone Sir George turned to his companion.
"I wouldn't have believed it," he said apologetically. "I never expected that May would be so disobedient. But you must make allowance for her. I daresay in time——"
"Never," Copley said emphatically. "She means every word she says. If you had half the pluck and grit she has you would never have found yourself in your present position. We have made a mistake, Haredale; we have gone the wrong way to work. I don't blame you any more than myself, but you may depend upon it that your daughter will never be my wife. She will keep her word; she will go out into the world, if necessary, to earn her own living, and I shouldn't wonder if she made a very good one. I must put up with my disappointment, I suppose. I would give half I possess to be able to say that your daughter was my wife. But there must be none of these harsh measures, Haredale. Just think what people would say! We should both be boycotted. The thing would get into the papers and your life wouldn't be worth living. We must find some other way out. Now let us change the subject."