“Honestly, no, Mr. Dalton,” Earle exclaimed, with solemn earnestness; “I would not avail myself of the slightest advantage to do you an injury. You suffer more from the exercise of your own vindictiveness than I ever can from its effects.”
“And yet you are determined to marry her,” with a gesture toward Editha, who now sat with bowed head weeping, “in spite of all my threats?”
“Not ‘in spite of your threats,’ Mr. Dalton, for they do not move me in the least; but because our love and our happiness are both too sacred to be sacrificed to the malice of any one,” Earle replied, with dignity.
“You will not heed me—you are determined to marry Editha?” he demanded, scowling darkly.
“If Miss Dalton consents to be my wife, I shall most certainly make her so.”
“And you will not be warned?”
“What possible cause, sir, can you have for this fierce opposition and resentment? Will you tell me?” Earle demanded, nearly wearied out with this controversy.
“No; that is my secret—I shall not tell it to you. I shall keep it to crush you both with; and crush you it will, if you attempt to thwart me,” he answered, sternly.
Earle bent his head in deep thought for a moment, then, seeking Mr. Dalton’s eye with a searching look, he said:
“Mr. Dalton, tell me one thing; it is not possible—you do not think that it is Editha’s money I am seeking?”