y
soul, you'll leave my house!"

"Major King, if you are a gentleman, sir, you will relieve me of this
unwelcome pressure to force me against my inclination. It is quite
useless, sir, I tell you most earnestly. I would rather die than marry
you--I would rather die!"

"Sir, I have no wish to coerce the lady"--Major King's voice shook,
his words were low--"as she seems to have no preference for me, sir.
Miss Landcraft perhaps has placed her heart somewhere else."

"She has no right to act with such treachery to me and you, sir," the
colonel said. "I'll not have it! Where else, sir--who?"

"Spare me the humiliation of informing you," begged Major King, with
averted face, with sorrow in his voice.

"Oh, you slanderous coward!" Frances assailed him with scorn of word
and look. Colonel Landcraft was shaking a trembling finger at her, his
face thrust within a foot of her own.

"I'll not have it! you'll not--who is the fellow, who?"

"There is nothing to conceal, there is no humiliation on my part in
speaking his name, but pride--the highest pride of my heart!"

She stood back from them a little, her lofty head thrown back, her
face full of color now, the strength of defense of the man she loved
in her brave brown eyes.

"Some low poltroon, some sneaking civilian--"

"He is a man, father--you have granted that. His name is--"

"Stop!" thundered the colonel. "Heaven and hell! Will you disgrace me
by making public confession of your shame? Leave this room, before you
drive me to send you from it with a curse!"

In her room Frances heard the horses come to the door to carry her
father away. She had sat there, trembling and hot, sorry for his
foolish rage, hurt by his narrow injustice. Yet she had no bitterness
in her heart against him, for she believed that she knew him best.
When his passion had fallen he would come to her, lofty still, but
ashamed, and they would put it behind them, as they had put other
differences in the past.

Her mother had gone to him to share the last moments of his presence
there, and to intercede for her. Now Frances listened, her hot cheek
in her hand, her eyes burning, her heart surging in fevered stroke.
There was a good deal of coming and going before the house; men came
up and dismounted, others rode away. Watching, her face against the
cool pane, she did not see her father leave. Yet he had not come to
her, and the time for his going was past.

Her heart was sore and troubled at t