ld be better to let him speak; he could
not possibly remain after she had refused him.

This decision made, she presently went into the library, where she found
her father and their guest. The two men were talking earnestly, and, as
she approached, her father shook hands heartily with Ormsby--for some
unknown reason--and went out of the room. It looked like a plot to leave
her at Vivian Ormsby's mercy. She made an excuse to follow her father.
Now that the moment was come, her courage failed her. She saw that the
man was very much in earnest, and she knew that it would be difficult to
turn him from his purpose.

"One moment," said Ormsby, resting his hand on her arm. "I have something
to say to you. You must give me a few minutes--you really must, I
insist."

"Must! Captain Ormsby," faltered Dora, with the color flooding her
cheeks. "I never allow anyone to use that word to me--not even father."

"Then, let me beg you to listen." He spoke softly, caressingly, but the
mouth was hard, and his fine, full eyes held her as under a spell. "What
I have to say will not, I feel sure, come as a surprise, for you must
have seen that I love you. I have your father's permission to ask you to
be my wife."

"Please, please, don't say any more, Mr. Ormsby. I knew that you
liked me, but--oh, I am so sorry! I can never be anything to
you--never--never--never!"

"Dora"--he caught her sharply, roughly by the arm--"you don't know what
you are saying. Perhaps, I've startled you. Listen, Dora. I am asking you
to marry me. I have cared for you ever since the first moment I saw you,
and I always wanted to make you my wife. You are everything in the world
to me."

"Mr. Ormsby, please, don't say any more. What you ask is impossible,
quite impossible--I do not care for you; I can never care for you--in
that way."

He uttered an exclamation of bitter annoyance.

"Then, it is as I thought. You have given your love to young Dick
Swinton. But you'll never marry him. I may not be able to win you, but I
can spoil his chances--yes, spoil them, and I will, by God! Shall I tell
you what sort of a man you have chosen for your lover?--a thief, a common
thief, a man who will be wanted by the police, who will go into the hands
of the police at my will and pleasure."

"That is a falsehood--a deliberate lie!" cried Dora. "You would not dare
to say such a thing if Dick were in New York. It's only cowards who take
advantage of the absent. I know of the