“There!” he cried, pointing at her with his thin, bony finger. “There she is! Ask her yourself, now—before me—the reason why she can never be your wife—the reason that her love is forbidden! If she really loves you, as she pretends, she will tell you the truth with her own lips!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FORBIDDEN LOVE
I stood before Shuttleworth angry and defiant.
I had crossed to Sylvia and had taken her soft hand.
“I really cannot see, sir, by what right you interfere between us!” I cried, looking at him narrowly. “You forbid! What do I care—why, pray, should you forbid my actions?”
“I forbid,” repeated the thin-faced clergyman, “because I have a right—a right which one day will be made quite plain to you.”
“Ah! Mr. Shuttleworth,” gasped Sylvia, now pale as death, “what are you saying?”