hat!" he exclaimed below his breath. "Do you mean to tell me
that--that--Why, you can't have the shamelessness to care for the man
without--until--"

She broke in upon his burst of indignation with a low, clear laugh, and
there was no shame in her voice or eyes, as she said:

"Would it be so shameful if I have? My dear father, you and I should
differ on that point. We are told that we are made for love and to be
loved, that it is our proper and natural destiny. Why, then, should we
be ashamed of it. None of us are in reality; we only pretend to be. It
is part of the world's system of hypocrisy to assume an incapacity for
loving a man until he has asked you; to pretend an utter indifference
until he has said the magic words, 'I love you.' As if love could wait,
ever did wait, ever will! Anyway, mine did not! And I am no different
to other women--only more candid."

"By Heaven, you make me feel--mad!" he said, with suppressed anger.
"You tell me unblushingly, to my face, that you have fallen in love
with the son of my old enemy, that you want to marry him--you ask me to
help you, to--to forego my just revenge, to use my hold over him as a
lever, to induce him, force him--Good God! have you no sense of right
or wrong, are you utterly devoid of--of modesty, of womanly pride!"

He glowered down upon her with flushed face and angry eyes; but she was
quite unmoved by his outburst, and still met his gaze steadily, almost
reflectingly.

"A fortnight ago I should have asked myself that question--and as
angrily as you; but I can't now. It has gone too far."

"Gone too far! You mean--"

"That I have grown to love him so much, so dearly, that life without
him--"

"By God! you will have to live without him, for I'll not help you to
get him," he said, fiercely. "Stafford Orme, Stephen Orme's boy! No!
Put the thing out of your mind, Maude! See here--I don't want to be
angry; I'll take back all I said: you--well, you surprised me, and
shocked me, too, I'll admit--you're a strange girl, and say things that
you don't mean, and in a cold-blooded way that gives me fits. Say no
more about it; put the idea out of your head."

She laughed, and rose, and gliding to him, put her hand on his arm.

"My dear father," she said in a low voice, but with a strange and
subtle vibration in it, as if the passion with which she was struggling
threatened to burst forth, "you don't know what you ask; you don't know
what love is--and you don't kno