you curse Richard, father, you are
cursing you know not whom." She dragged upon his arm, and brought his
ear down to the level of her mouth, and whispered in it.

The old man started to his feet, and pushed her from him with a hideous
oath; then made as though he would have unlocked the door and thrown it
wide, to drive her, as he had so lately threatened, from his roof. But
there was a noise of many feet and chattering and laughter in the
passage without, which showed that some of the tourist guests had just
come in. Only a plank intervened between that little knot of giddy
pleasure-seekers, with their jokes and small-talk, and the father and
daughter in their agony.

"Mercy! mercy!" cried the wretched girl.

Trevethick clapped his hand upon her little mouth, with, "Hush, fool!
hush!" and she felt thankful that he called her by no worse name.

"Forgive me--pity--pardon," murmured she.

"Listen!" said he, in a stem whisper. "Obey me now, you wicked, wanton
slut, or I proclaim your shame before them all; one minute will decide
your fate! Be stubborn, and you shall go forth through yonder door,
discarded, friendless, infamous, to beg your bread, or win it how you
will; be tractable, and even yet you shall have a father and a home.
Make choice, and quickly; and having made it, be you sure of this, that
it shall hold. Do you hear me, trollop?"

"I hear! I hear!" she murmured, shuddering. "I will obey you now, and
ever."

"Then marry Solomon Coe--at once--within the month."

"Oh, father, mercy!"

His fingers were on the door, and the key grated in the lock.

"The sea-air makes one famish," said a gay voice outside.

"It's lucky," laughed another, "for there is sure to be nothing for
dinner but the inevitable ham and eggs."

In another instant the final barrier between herself and public shame
would have been withdrawn by that relentless hand.

"I promise--I promise--spare me!" cried the unhappy girl, and fell
fainting on the floor.

The old man drew a long, deep breath, and wiped his forehead. His
victory had not been lightly won. He lifted his daughter up and carried
her to the sofa; then raised the little clumsy window, rarely opened,
and propped it with a stick, so that the breeze might blow upon her
tear-stained cheek. How white and worn and emptied of all joy it looked!
As he gazed upon her, a touch of pity stole into her father's face. He
poured out a little spirits in a glass, and put it to her lips.