er upbringing
has been. Could one calmly contemplate her throwing herself away on a
working farmer?"

He had appealed to his daughter's strongest prejudices, which had for a
while sunk into abeyance and then sprung into life again. All that he had
said about Muriel applied with equal force to her. She had yielded to a
mad infatuation, and returning sanity had brought her a crushing sense of
shame. She might have made a costly sacrifice for the rancher's sake,
flinging away all she had hitherto valued; she had sought him, humbled
herself to charm him, and he had never spared a tender thought for her.
Despising herself, her jealous rage and wounded pride could only be
appeased by his punishment.

"Prescott," she said coldly, "is a dangerous man; I have never met
anybody so insinuating and plausible. When he speaks to you, it's very
hard to disbelieve him; his manner's convincing."

"I felt that," said her father with a troubled air.

"Then shouldn't it put you on your guard, and make you test his
statements? Is it wise to let them influence you before they're
confirmed?"

"It was foolish of me to be impressed; but still----"

Gertrude checked him.

"With us suspicion is a duty. Try to think! Cyril had his failings, but
you were harsh to him. You showed him no pity; you drove him out."

"It's true," admitted Jernyngham in a hoarse voice. "I've regretted it
deeply."

She knew she had not appealed in vain to her father's grief and she meant
to work upon his desire for retribution.

"Cyril came here and fell into Prescott's hands. Instead of his meeting
Colston, the rancher personated him. He was the last man to see him; he
knew where he had hidden his money; soon afterward he bought a costly
machine."

"I know all this," said Jernyngham wearily.

"There seems to be some danger of your forgetting it! Let me go on!
Prescott took over control of Cyril's farm. He passed himself off for him
a second time and sold land of his; you found the clothes he wore hidden
near his house. Could you have any proofs more conclusive?"

Jernyngham flung her a swift glance.

"You believed him once. You are very bitter now."

"Yes," she said, "I have admitted that he is plausible; he deceived me.
Perhaps that has made me more relentless; but I have lost my brother, and
I loved him."

Her father's face grew very stern, and he clenched his hand.

"I have lost my son, and I wronged him."

Then there was silence for a few mome