“I have never believed a word that came out of your lying mouth,” said Captain Fordyce, disdainfully. “Come, now, what do you want? You must take yourself away from here.”
“What do I want?” inquired the stranger. “I want my daughter, of course. I hear you ill-use her and have the cold shoulder turned toward you. I suppose she ran back to you because women are fools enough to like those who ill-treat them. I hope she will come to London with her loving father,” and with a flattering change of manner he appealed to Nina.
She dropped her eyes to her wedding ring and slowly turned it round and round on her finger. She was not angry with this man any more. He was certainly her father: and dear Mr. Israel Danvers was fading, fading into obscurity. And her husband hated her father. There could be no mutual agreement, no settlement of difficulties between them. Neither could there be any question of her duty.
“Go on, plead your case,” said Captain Fordyce, addressing his caller in a voice of concentrated passion, “and make haste to get out of this.”
The man by the door smiled in an evil way, and again addressed his daughter. “Will you go with me, Bertha?”
She did not recoil at the strange name, but, lifting her eyes, fixed him with a firm and steady gaze.
“Go with him,” said Captain Fordyce, in an ironical voice. “Go with the honourable, kind-hearted gentleman.”
There was an ominous silence in the room. Everything seemed hushed and breathless, waiting for the girl’s answer.
“I cannot go with you,” she said, clearly; “because I am married to this man.”
“Marriage,” said her parent, derisively, “what is it?—a few jabbered words—and you will never be happy with that bully. You had better take the night express for London with me.”