Judge Van Lew staggered up to his feet, his anger helping him to get the better of his weakness.
He thundered, angrily:
“How dare you darken my doors again, you wicked girl, after what you have done?”
Mrs. Herman clutched his arm imploringly, but he shook her off in a rage, repeating:
“How dared you return, I say?”
“To—to—beg you to forgive me, papa,” faltered the pallid bride, fearfully.
“Forgive you—never! You have broken a good man’s heart by your accursed fickleness, and disgraced me forever, and I will disown and disinherit you, leaving you nothing but an outraged father’s curse on my death-bed!” stormed Judge Van Lew, in a fury that was dangerous to his life, so purple grew his face, while the knotted veins stood out like whip-cords on his brow.
Viola’s own quick temper blazed up at his charges, her pale cheeks flamed, and the tears dried up in her eyes as she answered, spiritedly:
“I came to ask you to forgive me, papa, not to listen to abuse! But since you refuse to pardon me, and threaten me with disinheritance, I can be as proud as you are! I suppose I can live without your forgiveness and without your money, too, since my dead mother’s fortune comes to me on my marriage!”
“Ha! ha! does it indeed? So that is what made that fortune-hunting wretch so bold in stealing you from Philip Desha—the hope of handling your rich inheritance! But how chagrined he will be on learning that your mother made the condition that unless you married with my approval the money should revert to me! And I assure you that you will never receive one penny to reward you for your treachery. And as for the villain you have married—”