She heard him this time. With a rush everything came to her, and a feeling of utter helplessness swept over her. Oh, the shame of it! Suddenly she flung forward on the bed and sobbed her heart out beside the man she must give up. He had been the one bright ray in the dull gray of her life. His love, come so quickly, so suddenly, to her had leavened the memory of her unloved years. Their recollection had been thrust into the background to give place to the sunshine of a precious first love. And now it must all go. There was no other course open to her, she told herself; and in this decision was revealed her father’s consummate devilishness. He understood her straightforward pride, if he had no appreciation of it. Then, suddenly, there came a feeling of resentment and hatred for the author of her misfortune, and she sat up with the tears only half dry on her cheeks. Her father’s dead eyes were upon her, and their hateful depths seemed to be searching her. She knew she must submit to his will. He mastered her as he mastered everybody else.
“It is not what I will,” she said, in a low voice. “I understand; our lives must remain apart.” Then anger brought harshness into her tone. “I would have given him up of my own accord had I known. I could not have thrust the shame of my birth upon him. But you—you have kept this from me all these years, saving it, in your heartless way, for such a moment as this. Why have you told me? Why do you keep me at your side? Oh, I hate you!”
“Yes, yes, of course you do,” her father said, quite unmoved by her attack. “Now you are tasting something—only something—of the bitterness of my life. And it is good that you should. The parent’s sins—the children. Yes, you certainly can feel——”
“For heaven’s sake leave me!” the girl broke in, unable to stand the taunting—the hideous enjoyment of the man.
“Not yet; I haven’t done. This man——” The rancher leant over the bed, and one hand felt its way over Tresler’s body until it rested over his heart. “At one time I was glad he came here. I had reasons. His money was as good as in my pocket. He would have bought stock from me at a goodish profit. Now I have changed my mind. I would sacrifice that. It would be better perhaps—perhaps. No, he is not dead yet. But he may die, eh, Diane? It would be better were he to die; it would save your explanation to him. Yes, let him die. You are not going to marry him. You would not care to see him marry another, as, of course, he will. Let him die. Love? Love? Why, it would be kindness to yourselves. Yes, let him die.”
“You—you—wretch!” Diane was on her feet, and her eyes blazed down upon the cruel, working face before her. The cry was literally wrung from her. “And that is the man who was ready to give his life for your interests. That is the man whose cleverness and bravery you even praised. You want me to refuse him the trifling aid I can give him. You are a monster! You have parted us, but it is not sufficient; you want his life.”
She suddenly bent over and seized her father’s hand, where it rested upon Tresler’s heart, and dragged it away.
“Take your hand off him; don’t touch him!” she cried in a frenzy. “You are not——”
But she got no further. The lean, sinewy hand had closed over hers, and held them both as in a vice; and the pressure made her cry out.
“Listen!” he said fiercely. He, too, was standing now, and his tall figure dwarfed hers. “He is to be moved out of here. I will have Jake to see to it in the morning. And you shall know what it is to thwart me if you dare to interfere.”