“Brave? It was his duty,” he snapped, resentful immediately. The red eyes were turned upon his daughter, and she fancied she saw something utterly cruel in their painful depths. “You are uncommonly interested,” he went on slowly. “I was warned before that he and you were too thick. I told you of it—cautioned you. Isn’t that sufficient, or have I to——” He left his threat unfinished.
A color flushed slowly into Diane’s cheeks and her eyes sparkled.
“No, it isn’t sufficient, father. You have no right to stop me speaking to Mr. Tresler. I have bowed to your decision with regard to the other men on the ranch. There, perhaps, you had a right—a parent’s right. But it is different with Mr. Tresler. He is a gentleman. As for character, you yourself admit it is unimpeachable. Then what right have you to refuse to allow me even speech with him? It is absurd, tyrannical; and I refuse to obey you.”
The frowning brows drew sharply down over the man’s eyes. And Diane understood the sudden rising of storm behind the mask-like face. She waited with a desperate calmness. It was the moral bravery prompted by her new-born love.
But the storm held off, controlled by that indomitable will which made Julian Marbolt an object of fear to all who came into contact with him.
“You are an ungrateful girl, a foolish girl,” he said quietly. “You are ungrateful that you refuse to obey me; and foolish, that you think to marry him.”
Diane sprang to her feet. “I—how——”
“Tut! Do not protest. I know you have promised to be his wife. If you denied it you would lie.” He sat for a moment enjoying the girl’s discomfort. Then he went on, with a cruel smile about his lips as she returned to her seat with a movement that was almost a collapse. “That’s better,” he said, following her action by means of his wonderful instinct. “Now let us be sensible—very sensible.”
His tone had become persuasive, such as might have been used to a child, and the girl wondered what further cruelty it masked. She had not long to wait.