ince our last interview, when you judged
me unfairly and said many hard things, the worst of which was your
dismissal, and your wish that I should not again enter your
father's house. He has invited me to come, and I am feverishly
looking forward to your permission to accept the invitation.

I am not jealous now of a dead man, nor do I wish to press my suit
at such a time. But I desire to set myself right. You have no doubt
learned by this time that the lies of which you accused me were
painful truths. The hard things you said were not justified, and I
only ask to be received as a visitor, for my life is colorless and
miserable if I cannot see you.

There is one other matter I must discuss with you in full. It is,
briefly, this: Mr. Herresford has withdrawn his account from our
bank, of which I am a director and a partner, and demands the
restitution of seven thousand dollars taken by poor Dick Swinton.
My co-directors blame me for not acting at once when I suspected
the first check. But they are not disposed to pay the money, and a
lawsuit will result. You know what that means--a public scandal, a
full exposure of my fellow-officer's act of folly, a painful
revelation concerning the affairs of the Swinton's and their money
troubles. All this, I am sure, would be most repugnant to you. For
your sake, I am willing to pay this money, and spare you pain. If,
however, you persist in treating me unfairly and breaking my heart,
I cannot be expected to make so great a sacrifice to save the honor
of one who publicly insulted me by striking me a cowardly blow in
the face because I held a smaller opinion of him than did other
people, and thoughtlessly revealed the fact by an unguarded
remark.

I never really doubted his physical courage, and he has rendered a
good account of himself, of which we are all proud. But seven
thousand dollars is too dear a price to pay without some fair
recognition of my sacrifice on your behalf."

"Father," cried Dora, starting up, and reading no more, "I want you to
let me have seven thousand dollars."

"What!" cried the colonel, staring at her as though she had asked for the
moon.

"I want seven thousand dollars. I'll repay it somehow, in the course of
years. I'll economize--"

"Don't think of it, my girl--don't think of it. That miserly old man, who
starves his family and washes his dirty linen in public, is going to have
no mo