“Papa, was I ever guilty of telling you a falsehood?” the young girl demanded, turning upon him, all the pride of her nature aroused by his words.
“Not that I know of; but——”
“Then do not dare to accuse me of it now. I am telling you only truth, and the wishes of a dying man. Uncle Richard’s wishes in this respect are sacred to me, even if my own heart and my friendship for Mr. Wayne did not prompt me to do him this little kindness out of my abundance.”
“Little kindness! It would not take very many such little kindnesses to make a beggar of yourself,” sneered Mr. Dalton, wrathfully.
“I pledged myself to execute this wish just as soon as Earle’s time expires, and I shall fulfill my pledge to the letter,” Editha returned, somewhat proudly.
“Not if I know it, Miss Dalton. Such folly—such rashness, I could never allow you to be guilty of.”
“Papa,” she began, pleadingly, her face full of pain, her eyes full of tears, “why are you so changed toward me lately? You and I are all that are left of our family. We have no near relatives; we are almost alone in the world. Do not, please do not, let there be any estrangement, any disagreement between us.”
Mr. Dalton’s face softened for the moment.
“Certainly not, my dear,” he replied, adopting his usual fond tone and manner, “there need be no estrangement, no disagreement, if you will be reasonable; but, of course, I cannot allow you to squander your money in the way you propose doing.”
“My money! How came it mine? Whose was it before it became mine?”