“I do not believe it,” she said, drawing herself to her full height; “but even if it were true, it is not a sufficient reason, for the sin and shame are not his—they belong to a previous generation.”
A wild, mocking laugh burst from Mr. Dalton’s lips at this.
“Such disinterested devotion it has never been my pleasure to witness before,” he cried.
Earle’s deep-drawn sigh of gratitude and thankfulness at Editha’s reply had not been lost upon him, and it had seemed to work him up to the highest pitch of excitement.
“Mr. Dalton——” the young man began.
“Hush! will you? I’ll attend to you when I get through with her,” he said, with a gesture of authority; “this girl has got to learn that she cannot defy me with impunity. Now, miss, as I’ve driven that nail home, hadn’t I better clinch it? Shall I tell you yet more to convince you that you can never marry this nameless vagabond?” and he bent toward her until his evil face almost touched hers.
She drew back from him with an involuntary expression of disgust.
Then she said, with a strangely sinking heart and shaking voice:
“If you have anything more to tell me, please tell it quick!”
“A ‘good, and sufficient reason’ I told you I had,” he returned, very slowly and deliberately, and glancing from one to the other to mark the effect of his words. “Yes, it is; and I think you will both be obliged to acknowledge it when I tell you that Earle Wayne, as he calls himself, IS MY OWN SON!”