"At any rate the bare suspicion of these things was all the reason you deigned to give," he said.
Florence heard and saw—conviction, the loathed thing, came creeping colder and colder to her bosom.
"But since then I have other causes for pursuing your crimes with the justice they merit, other and deeper wrongs you have done me, serpent, fiend, household ingrate as you are!"
"And what may those other wrongs be?" was the cold and half sneering rejoinder to this passionate outbreak.
"My daughter!" said the merchant, sweeping a hand across his forehead. "It sickens me to mention her name here and thus, but my daughter—even there has your venom reached."
"Perhaps I understand you," said the young man with insufferable coolness; "but if your daughter chose to love where her father hates how am I to blame? I am sure it has cost me a great deal of trouble to keep the young lady's partiality a secret. If you have found it out at last so much the better."
Mr. Hurst, with all his firmness, was struck dumb by this cool and taunting reply, but after a moment's fierce struggle he mastered the passion within him and spoke.
"You love"—the words absolutely choked the proud man—"you love my daughter then—why was this never mentioned to me?"
"It was the young lady's fancy, I suppose; perhaps she shrunk from so grim a confident; at any rate it is very certain that I did!"
Mr. Hurst shaded his face with one hand and seemed to struggle fiercely with himself. Jameson sat playing with the tassel of his cane, now and then casting furtive glances at his benefactor.