e fit to be your husband than the
veriest beggar in the street. You have disappointed me terribly,
Virginia. I believed you to be sensible and clever; but the admission
you have just made proves you to be little short of a goose. Bah! you
couldn't have chosen worse. A dissipated, mercenary good-for-nothing!"

"You must not speak in that way of Roger, father. I cannot sit here and
let him be abused. Scold me as much as you please, but don't say
anything against him. You do not understand him."

"Understand him, indeed! It is you who do not understand him. I never
expected that a daughter of mine would fall in love with a barber's
block."

This was too much for my endurance. "You are unjust," I cried with,
flashing eyes. "It is too late to talk so. We love each other, and if my
own father repulses me we must go elsewhere for a blessing."

I have an idea that I looked like a queen of tragedy as I stood and
braved him thus, for he gazed at me with a sort of astonishment, and
made a movement as if to deter me from leaving the room. Just then, as
fortune willed, the door was thrown open, and the servant ushered in
Roger Dale.

He looked from the one to the other of us, and his cheeks reddened.

"So, sir," exclaimed my father, "you have come to claim your bride! You
will have to reckon with me first; and I warn you that you will need
stronger arguments than any I have ever heard in your favor, to convince
me that you are the proper man to marry my daughter. Virginia, you may
leave us. I will send for you when I wish for you. This gentleman and I
are capable of settling this matter together."

I saw that my father was in a rage that would not brook resistance. But
my own blood was boiling. Roger stood pale but seemingly unabashed,
gazing at me as if he waited for me to speak. I addressed him:--

"Whatever my father may say to you, Roger, do not forget that I have
promised to be your wife." With this speech I left the room.

VI.

I went to my room and bolted the door. Presently Aunt Helen knocked, but
I declined to let her in. I felt grievously wronged. My father had
trampled upon the most sacred sentiments of my soul. He had spurned and
insulted the man I loved. What proofs had he of the charges he had
brought? Dissipation! It could not be. I surely would have discovered
this long ago if it had been true. Mercenary! Could he be called
mercenary whom a high sense of honor had forbidden to assist me in the
investmen