you I have no shadow of claim,
but I am here from dire necessity, at your mercy--a helpless,
defenseless pleader in my mother's behalf--and as such, I appeal to the
boasted southern chivalry, upon which you pride yourself, for immunity
from insult while I am under your roof. Since I stood no taller than
your knee, my mother has striven to inculcate a belief in the nobility,
refinement, and chivalric deference to womanhood, inherent in southern
gentlemen; and if it be not all a myth, I invoke its protection against
abuse of my father. A stranger, but a lady, every inch, I demand the
respect due from a gentleman."

For a moment they eyed each other, as gladiators awaiting the signal,
then General Darrington sprang to his feet, and with a bow, stately and
profound as if made to a duchess, replied:

"And in the name of southern chivalry, I swear you shall receive it."

"Read your daughter's letter; give me your answer, and let us cut short
an interview--which, if disagreeable to you, is almost unendurable to
me."

Turning away, she began to walk slowly up and down the floor; and
smothering an oath under his heavy mustache, the old man sank back in
his chair, and opened the letter.

CHAPTER III.

Holding in leash the painful emotions that struggled for utterance,
Beryl was unconscious of the lapse of time, and when her averted eyes
returned reluctantly to her grandfather's face, he was slowly tearing
into shreds the tear-stained letter, freighted with passionate prayers
for pardon, and for succor. Rolling the strips into a ball, he threw it
into the waste-paper basket under the table; then filled a glass with
sherry, drank it, and dropped his head wearily on his hand. Five leaden
minutes crawled away, and a long, heavy sigh quivered through Gen'l
Darrington's gaunt frame. Seizing the decanter, he poured the contents
into two glasses, and as he raised one to his lips, held the other
toward his visitor.

"You must be weary from your journey; let me insist that you drink some
sherry."

"Thank you, I neither wish nor require it."

"I find your name is Beryl. Sit down here, and answer a few questions."
He drew a chair near his own.

She shook her head:

"If you will excuse me, I prefer to stand."

In turning, so as to confront her fully, his elbow struck from the
table, a bronze paper-weight which rolled just beyond his reach.
Instinctively she stooped to pick it up, and in restoring it, her
fingers touch