“You may ask, but it does not follow that I shall tell you. Suffice it to say that you shall never marry Editha Dalton.”
Earle Wayne smiled calmly.
“Pardon me, but that is a question which Editha alone can decide,” he replied, respectfully but confidently.
“Aha! do you think so?” sneered Mr. Dalton. Then turning to Editha, with a malicious smile, he demanded: “And what is your opinion about the matter, miss?”
“I wish we could be at peace, papa. Oh, why cannot you be reasonable, and let me be happy?” she exclaimed, with gathering tears and a bitter pain at the rupture she foresaw.
“Speak! What do you think of your lover’s statement?” reiterated Mr. Dalton, harshly.
“If I must speak—then—I must,” she began, with quiet dignity, “although I dislike to cause you either anger or sorrow. I think this is a matter which I alone can decide, and—I have decided.”
“How have you decided?” thundered Mr. Dalton, striding toward her.
“I have decided that if we both do live, I shall be Earle Wayne’s wife,” she said, with a quiet firmness that left no room for doubt.
A proud, glad light leaped into Earle’s face at these brave words, though he would cheerfully have shielded her at almost any cost from this angry scene with her father.