"I can't help it. She must stay with me. Nobody need know—about my father. Her name is not mentioned in the will."
"No. That is true. But his letter to me as your guardian and trustee ought to be regarded equitably as part of the will; and I do not see how it would be possible for me to acquiesce in something so directly contrary to his last wishes. I beg you to look at it from my point of view—"
"I do"—said Delia, flushing again. "But my letter warned you—"
"Yes—but I felt on receiving it that you could not possibly be aware of the full strength of your father's feeling. Let me read you his words."
He took an envelope from his pocket, observing her. Delia hastily interposed.
"Don't, Mr. Winnington!—I'm sure I know."
"It is really my duty to read it to you," he said, courteously but firmly.
She endured it. The only sign of agitation she shewed was the trembling of her hands on the back of the chair she leant upon. And when he returned it to his pocket, she considered for a moment or two, before she said, breathing unevenly, and stumbling a little.—
"That makes no difference, Mr. Winnington. I expect you think me a monster. All the same I loved my father in my own way. But I am not going to barter away my freedom for anything or anyone. I am not part of my father, I am myself. And he is not here to be injured or hurt by anything I do. I intend to stick to Gertrude Marvell—and she to me."
And having delivered her ultimatum, she stood like a young goddess, expectant and defiant.