. The girl made a wondrous and beautiful struggle
against her wrath, and in a moment all signs of ill-temper disappeared,
and her face took on an expression of sweet meekness which did not belong
there of right. She quietly sat down again, and when I looked at her, I
would have sworn that Griselda in the flesh was sitting opposite me. Sir
George was right. "Ways such as the girl had of late developed were
dangerous." Hell was in them to an extent little dreamed of by her father.
Breakfast was finished in silence. Dorothy did not come down to dinner at
noon, but Sir George did not mark her absence. At supper her place was
still vacant.

"Where is Doll?" cried Sir George, angrily. He had been drinking heavily
during the afternoon. "Where is Doll?" he demanded.

"She is on the terrace," answered Madge. "She said she did not want
supper."

"Tell your mistress to come to supper," said Sir George, speaking to one
of the servants. "You will find her on the terrace."

The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that Mistress Dorothy
wanted no supper.

"Tell her to come to the table whether she wants supper or not. Tell her I
will put a stop to her moping about the place like a surly vixen," growled
Sir George.

"Don't send such a message by a servant," pleaded Lady Crawford.

"Then take it to her yourself, Dorothy," exclaimed her brother.

Dorothy returned with her aunt and meekly took her place at the table.

"I will have none of your moping and pouting," said Sir George, as Dorothy
was taking her chair.

The girl made no reply, but she did not eat.

"Eat your supper," her father commanded. "I tell you I will have no--"

"You would not have me eat if I am not hungry, would you, father?" she
asked softly.

"I'd have you hungry, you perverse wench."

"Then make me an appetite," returned the girl. I never heard more ominous
tones fall from human lips. They betokened a mood in which one could
easily do murder in cold blood, and I was surprised that Sir George did
not take warning and remain silent.

"I cannot make an appetite for you, fool," he replied testily.

"Then you cannot make me eat," retorted Dorothy.

"Ah, you would answer me, would you, you brazen, insolent huzzy," cried
her father, angrily.

Dorothy held up her hand warningly to Sir George, and uttered the one
word, "Father." Her voice sounded like the clear, low ring of steel as I
have heard it in the stillness of sunrise during a duel t