this!"

"And who said that I did deem him unworthy for _these_ reasons? Who
said that I objected to Herbert Jameson as a companion for my daughter
because of his humble origin or his penniless condition? Who told you
this, Florence Hurst?"

"He, he told me--did you not say all this to him, all this and more?
Did you not drive him from your presence and employ with bitter scorn,
when two weeks ago he asked for your daughter's hand?"

"_He_ ask for my daughter's hand! he, the ingrate! the--Florence, did
you believe that he really possessed the base assurance to request
your hand of me?"

"Father! father! what does this mean? Did you not tell me on that very
evening never to see him again--never to recognize him in the street,
or even think of him! Did you not cast him forth from your home and
employ because he told you of his love for me and of mine for him?"

"Of your love for him, Florence Hurst!"

There was something terrible in the voice of mingled astonishment and
dismay with which this exclamation was made.

"Father!" cried the poor girl, half rising from her seat, and falling
back again pale and trembling, "father, why this astonishment? You
knew that I loved him!"

"Who told you that I did?"

"_He_ told me, he, Herbert Jameson. It was for this you made him an
outcast."

"It is false, Florence, I never dreamed of this degradation!" said Mr.
Hurst, in a voice that seemed like sound breaking up through cold
marble.

"Then why that command to myself--why was I never to see or hear from
him again?" cried Florence, almost gasping for breath.

"Because he is a dishonest man, a swindler--because I solemnly believe
that he has been robbing me during the last three years, and
squandering his stolen spoil at the gambling-table!"

"Father--father--father!"

The sharp anguish in which these words broke forth brought the
distressed merchant to his feet. Florence, too, stood upright, and
even through the dusk you might have seen the wild glitter of her
eyes, the fierce heave of her bosom.

"You believe, father, you only believe! should such things be said
without proof--proof broad and clear as the open sunshine when it
pours down brightest from heaven. I say to you, my father, Herbert
Jameson is an honest, honorable man!"

"It is well, Florence--it is well!" said Mr. Hurst, with stern and
bitter emphasis. "You have doubted my justice, you distrust that which
I have said. You are foolishly blind enough to t