“Very well,” said his wife; “if you succeed in bringing about a marriage between her and Charles, I will punish both you and him severely.”
“As how, madam?” asked her husband.
“Are you aware of one fact, Lindsay?”
“I am aware of one melancholy fact,” he replied, sarcastically.
“And, pray, what is it?” she inquired.
“Faith,” he replied, “that I am your husband.”
“O, yes—just so—that is the way I am treated, children; you see it and you hear it. But, now, listen to me; you know, Lindsay, that the property I brought you, as your unfortunate wife, was property in my own right; you know, too, that by our marriage settlement that property was settled on me, with the right of devising it to any of my children whom I may select for that purpose. Now, I tell you, that if you press this marriage between Charles and Alice Goodwin, I shall take this property into my own hands, shall make my will in favor of Harry, and you and your children may seek a shelter where you can find one.”
“Me and my children! Why, I believe you think you have no children but Harry here. Well, you may do as you like with your property; I am not so poor but I and my children can live upon my own. This house and place, I grant you, are yours, and, as for myself, I am willing to leave it to-day; a life of exclusion and solitude will be better than that which I lead with you.”
“Papa,” said Maria, throwing her arms about his neck and bursting into tears, “when you go I shall go; and wherever you may go to, I shall accompany you.”
“Father,” said Charles, in a choking voice, and grasping his hand as he spoke, “if you leave this house you shall not go alone. Neither I nor Maria shall separate ourselves from you. We will have enough to live on with comfort and decency.”