not leave them
unprotected to the world, to beg their bit of bread, maybe. I have put
everything in my invention. It is her dowry."

"And he wished to be the sole master of it?"

"Exactly. She saw him once." And a bitter smile wreaths the deathly
face.

"And she does not like him! How could any woman?" Floyd Grandon gives a
shiver of disgust.

"I have not told her. Yet a man cannot leave a young girl to make a
tiger's fight with the world! She, poor lamb, would soon be rent in
pieces."

"Leave her to my care," says Floyd Grandon. "I have a mother and
sisters, and a little girl of my own whom I love as my life. Let me
take her and do the best I can with her fortune."

"You are very kind. There is one other way. Is your brother at home?"

"He went away yesterday." Floyd almost guesses at what will follow.

"I have a proposal to make. Let him marry my daughter. You are head of
the house now, and have the welfare of your family at heart. She is
sweet, accomplished, pretty. He will listen to you, and you see it will
be to his interest. You can fight Wilmarth then; you will have the best
in your own hands."

Floyd Grandon sits in stupid amaze. It might be for Eugene's interest,
but the young man would never consent. And a mere business marriage
without love--no, he cannot approve.

"This surprises you, no doubt. When I reached New York I was very ill
again. I made the physician tell me the truth. I cannot live a month; I
may die any day, but it would be horrible to leave my child to battle
with poverty, unsuccess. If he was to make a fortune he might go into
it with a better heart, you know. And your brother is so young. He
would be good to her. Not that I fancy Jasper Wilmarth could be cruel
to a pretty young girl who would bring him a fortune."

Floyd Grandon rises and begins to pace the floor. Then he stops as
suddenly. "Pardon me, I annoy you, but----"

"You think it all strange. It is not your way of doing things. When I
saw the young girl I made my wife, I had no word for her delicate ear
until her parents had consented and betrothed her. And I loved her--God
only knows how dearly. She died in my arms, loath to go. But your young
people, they love to-day and marry with no consultation, they quarrel
and are divorced. Is it any better?"

"No," Floyd Grandon answers honestly. "But--I do not know my brother's
views----"

"You will write to him. You will explain. Your father, it is said, left
all things i