“Oh, papa,” she said, her voice full of unshed tears, “why need we disagree upon so slight a thing?”
“Do you call a matter involving ten thousand dollars a slight thing?” he asked, with a sneer.
“Yes, in comparison with what will remain, my father,” laying her hand softly on his shoulder and pleading in tones that ought to have melted a harder heart. “Let us do what is right; let us be friends and united in heart, instead of growing so widely apart as we have been during the past year or two.”
“You will not yield to me.”
“In all that is right, I shall be only too glad to,” she answered, with a heavy sigh.
“But you persist in giving this money to that——”
“I must. That is settled,” she interrupted, firmly, and to prevent the utterance of some obnoxious word, she knew not what.
“Never—never! Do you think I would let you give it to him—him of all others in the world?”
Edith regarded him in surprise at these excited words. They seemed to imply a deadly hatred for which she could not account, knowing that Earle had never done her father any injury.
“A thief—a robber—a criminal!” he added, noticing her look, and having no desire to have her inquire into the real nature of his hatred.