“‘He is my master!’ she said, in a frightened whisper. ‘He has been so ever so long! He makes me do what he will—he sent me here to-night. He shames me and destroys me—he loves to do it! He makes me sleep, and then I cannot help myself. I wake, and find it done; and he has no mercy.’
“‘Why does he do this?’
“‘It was when I was only a little girl that he first got that power over me. He knew my father was rich, and he wanted me to be promised to him for his—wife, Tom. Then my father put me in the convent, and I stayed there seven years, till we thought he had lost the power, or was dead perhaps. But he found me in America, and made me come back; and now it’s worse than ever.’
“‘Why doesn’t your father have him arrested and imprisoned? It can be done.’
“‘Oh my poor father! He cannot, Tom; do not ask me that!’
“‘I must ask it, Kate. Remember, I love you! Why is it?’
“‘My father is afraid of him too,’ she said, chafing one hand with the other with a piteous expression of pain. ‘If he did anything against him, he would be ruined. My father cannot help me, Tom.’
“‘But I do not understand. What has your father done that he should be afraid of such a scoundrel as Slurk?’ I demanded sternly.
“She hesitated long before answering, moving her hands and head restlessly and fetching many troubled sighs. At last she laid her hand shrinkingly on mine, and I grasped it firmly. ‘I will tell you, Tom,’ she said in a faltering voice; ‘but you know I would tell no one in the world but you. My dear papa did not do wrong himself; but there were people connected with him who did, and made the blame seem to be his. And there were some papers of papa’s which—which—oh——’