"Yes, love her," cried the young fellow hotly. "I have loved her for years."
"A common village girl!" burst forth the father.
"She is not common," replied the son. "A purer, better girl never breathed. No one has ever dared to raise a breath against her. She is well educated, too, and every one respects her."
It was evident the father's contempt aroused the lad's anger. He had no difficulty in speaking now. Mary Treleaven had to be defended, and he no longer stammered in his speech; words came easily.
"I say she is a pure girl and a good girl," he continued almost angrily, "and I love her."
I thought for the moment that Josiah Lethbridge would have lost self-control here, and have burst forth in a tirade of abuse; but still he kept command over himself, and, although his lips quivered, he spoke quietly.
"Pardon me if I doubt your love," he said. "May I ask what you intend doing with her? If a man loves a woman, he should at least have some prospect of keeping her decently before he marries her."
At this Hugh was silent. The father had, by his question, pierced the weak place in Hugh's armor.
"If you think," went on Josiah Lethbridge, "that I am going to do anything for her, or you, you are mistaken. You have chosen your own way; you must follow it. I had intended another future for you, but my intentions do not seem to count. I think there is nothing more to say," and he moved in his chair as though the interview were at an end. Then, as if on second thoughts, he turned to me and said quietly:
"I do not see why you should have been dragged into this, Mr. Erskine; but I suppose you had your own reason for coming."